Golden Fire
by Thalion King's Daughter
Summary: Caspian the Conquerer was not the first Telmarine who invaded Narnia.  "Listen to the children...and do not lay a finger on the Silver Crown, for they know the consequences of harming the brother of the High King" from Lirenel's "Terror Gold"
1. Prologue: Child's Tale

"Come in."

The grey-haired man turned from his silent contemplation of the Eastern Ocean. A small smile cracked his stern countenance as his youngest grandson entered the room. All of his grandchildren were dear to him, but this youngest son of his youngest son held a special place in his heart. The young man walked toward him with the breezy grace of his mother's people—she was a willow dryad after all—stopping when a few feet away from him.

"Grandfather."

"Cináed."

For a moment, the two regarded each other with solemn stares but soon Cináed's lips began to twitch. A moment more and laughter spilled from his lips.

"One day, Grandfather! One day I'll beat you at your own game."

An answering smile spread across the older man's face. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Come here." He pulled his grandson to him in a warm embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Stepping back he surveyed him with pleasure. "Now. What is it that brings you here, hmm? It is not often that I have this pleasure unannounced."

"Unannounced, yes. But is it truly unexpected, Grandfather?" Cináed's piercing green eyes pinned his grandfather's and searched them deeply.

"No. No I suppose it is not," he sighed. "I knew one of you would seek me out and you…you are the most perceptive. What do you want to know?"

"Why would you not treat with the Telmarine ambassadors? Their request was reasonable enough. Yet you spoke out against them in the council more harshly than I have ever heard you speak. Why? You are not called 'Farsight' without reason."

"Do you really want to know?"

"I would not have asked if I did not."

"There is a pen, ink, and parchment in the desk. Get it out."

"Sir?"

"It is a tale that few wish to remember, Cináed. But it must be. Even Cheroom never heard the whole story and it is recorded in only a few words in his books. But I will tell the whole. Let Narnia and her enemies remember the Golden Fire."

Silently, Cináed walked over to the desk, pulled out a stack of parchment, selected a pen, and sat down with it at the ready. His grandfather stood silently at the window, looking out again at the now dark ocean, his face pained with some terrible memory. Slowly, Jaer Courage Peridanson, Lord of Beruna, knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Steward of Cair Paravel, and called Farsight by his people, began to speak.

"It all began on a bright spring day in the month of Quickening in the ninth year of the reign of High King Peter called the Magnificent, Queen Susan called the Gentle, King Edmund called the Just, and Queen Lucy called the Valiant…"


	2. Two Kings

"So when are you going to ask her?"

I leaped away from the balustrade as though the cool stone had suddenly turned red hot. Attempting to conceal my surprise, I turned around as casually as possible.

"Whatever do you mean, Jaerin?"

"Oh stuff it, Jaer," my brother laughed. "Don't try to play innocent with me. Half the castle can see that you're head over heels for Ariella. Why don't you just ask her to marry you and be done with it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

I should have saved my breath because my denial only made Jaerin laugh the harder. But what was one to do with such a brother? He read my every mood and was my closest friend, yet he pestered me beyond belief about Ariella. I loved her, yes. But there was no assurance that she loved me. She was a ward of the crown and a guest of our family and I would not take advantage of her position.

My brother limped forward and leaned against the low wall I had abandoned. Though it had been over a week since he was wounded, I knew his leg still pained him. But trying to keep Jaerin off his feet was like trying to keep the tides from coming. He would not be still.

"Is she out there?"

"Yes. She and Rien are inspecting the gardens."

Slowly, Jaerin eased himself into one of the chairs set out on this, our private balcony. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, knowing that he would not admit weakness if he thought I were watching him. Sure enough, a faint grimace crossed his face as he stretched out his leg.

"Yes it still hurts. No it's not bad. You might as well just look straight at me."

Perhaps I had not been as subtle as I thought.

"No, I just know you're going to be watching me," Jaerin grinned cheekily. "Honestly, Jaer. You're getting as bad as Peter or Edmund."

Giving up all pretense of not watching—there was a good reason my brother was the only human among the spies of Narnia—I dropped into the other chair. "Hardly, brother mine. Do you really think that Peter would have let Edmund out of bed if they were in our positions? And Edmund did tie Peter into his bed after the last Ettin incident."

Jaerin snorted. "A feat which required our assistance. And as you do not have their backup, you can hardly do so to me. It is not the desire you lack, merely the means."

I laughed at that. It felt good. I had laughed so little in these past years while we hunted our mother's murderer and sought our king's freedom. Now both kings were safe at Cair Paravel, Alman had been brought to justice, and I could relax again. Perhaps I would consider asking Peter for Ariella's hand.

My pleasant thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of claws scrabbling up the nearby tree and the appearance of a small head crowned with large ears. A second later, the whole Animal emerged from the leaves and Hoshea propelled himself onto the banister. The Galago looked absurdly pleased with himself—but that seemed to be a constant state of being for him.

"What news, Hoshea?" Jaerin asked. He did not seem surprised at his sudden coming though the spy usually only emerged at night. I was a bit more cautious in my greeting.

"Is aught wrong?"

"The music-maker wonders what has brought Hoshea waking? Come now, friend of mine, will you not be guessing?" shrilled the absurd creature. Honestly, why could not some less impudent Animal have attached itself to me? At least Boulder, Jaerin's Bear friend, was politer.

"Hoshea." My warning tone made no impact on him. Not that I really expected it to by this point.

"Hoshea has been watching. Much watching and much listening. Does the music-maker, like the pretty lady? Hoshea would be glad to stand at my Jaer lord's wedding. Perhaps Hoshea goes now, to tell the golden maiden?"

"Hoshea! If you dare say one thing…"

Hoshea laughed and danced away, his oversized eyes flicking toward the garden where Ariella and Rien could now be seen walking back to the house. I lunged for him but he bounded easily out of my reach. Surprisingly, it was Jaerin that came to my defense. As the ridiculous Animal gathered himself to leap for the trees, my brother reached out and caught him by the tail. A terrible offense under most circumstances. But these were not most circumstances. Hoshea yelped a little as Jaerin pulled him closer.

"If you breathe one word about this to anyone else, Hoshea, I will personally see that everyone knows about the little incident at Glasswater a few weeks back. Do you want that to happen?"

Though it hardly seemed possible, Hoshea's eyes grew wider. Something like fear entered his mischievous gaze. "No! Surely Jaerin teases. Lord Jaerin will not whisper of Hoshea's weakness?"

"It depends." Jaerin let go of Hoshea and leaned back against the chair, his arms casually behind his head. Or so it seemed. Very few people knew that he kept a dagger just below his collar, between his shoulder blades. "If you say nothing of this matter, I say nothing of that. If I get the slightest hint that you have said aught of this, I will tell all of that. Are we clear?"

The Galago nodded. "Hoshea understands. Hoshea will be silent. But Hoshea will be told when he can be telling?"

I softened. It really was impossible to remain angry with him long. And he had rendered such excellent service over the years that he deserved to be one of the first to know. Not that there was anything to tell. Yet.

"Of course. But, Hoshea, what has brought you here? I highly doubt you woke up early just to listen in on our discussion of my love-life."

All his impishness vanished and Hoshea grew very still. "No, Hoshea was awakened by the sound of Birdies. A message came from Paravel bringing news for lordlings. Raiders have been spotted on the far west border. The kings do ask if Farsight knight will join them in their riding."

"When do they leave?"

"The Bird did say tomorrow, early in the morning. If Jaer will be at Paravel before the day's first light, the kings and more will waiting be for Jaer to ride then with them."

I sighed. So much for everyone at home and at peace. But this was likely a remnant of Alman's band that he'd left along the border instead of bringing to the coast. Leaderless, they probably would not last long against us. And if both kings were going, none could withstand us.

"I'll go. Send the word." Hoshea gave a little bow and bounded away. Jaerin opened his mouth and I turned on him. "No! You are not coming too. Your leg isn't fully healed and you'd only slow us down."

"I could use Lucy's cordial."

I rolled my eyes. Brothers. "As if. You know very well that the High King has commanded that it not be used save in the direst circumstances. And he's commanded that Lucy not carry it commonly to the wars since it seems to have the unfortunate effect of making everyone more reckless than normal—not that he's one to speak, but that's beside the point. Besides, you weren't invited."

My last statement was petty I know, but it was the only thing I could think of on the spot that might keep Jaerin from arguing further. Apparently it worked because Jaerin merely crossed his arms and hunched over with a huff.

"Fine. But you're going to have to tell me everything."

I grinned, delighted at so easy a victory. "I'm sure we'll be back in a week or so and it won't be very interesting. Come on, it's near supper and Father's sure to be wondering where we've got to."

I never dreamed how wrong I was.


	3. Two Crowns

There was only a sliver of light low along the eastern horizon—promise of the day to come—when I rode through the gates of Cair Paravel the next morning. Both kings and an assortment of Animals and Creatures lightly armed and armored waited in the courtyard. The queens stood on the steps of the castle watching the organized commotion below. None of the soldiers paid me any heed when I left my mount by the walls—I and my brother were practically part of the family anyhow. So it was that I was able to get quite close behind Peter before Edmund noticed me. At least, I believe he noticed me. That king of mine is even more unreadable than my brother when he chooses.

Trusting to Edmund to not spoil my attack, I crept closer, signaling to the milling soldiers not to give any sign of my presence. I was just about to grab Peter's shoulder and spin him around when a sharp voice at my very feet cried out in delight.

"Sir Jaer! You've come!"

I admit it. I jumped. Not off the ground, mind you, but enough that Edmund smirked and I knew I would be teased about it for the rest of my days. I had not seen the Fox talking to Peter. And, while most of the Court Foxes were skilled spies, this one was not. True, he was quite young and might yet become such but for now, he took too much after his grandfather, Peterkins, for such subtly.

"Greetings, Petkin. Edmund. Peter," I said, hiding my discomfiture swiftly.

"Jaer!" Peter turned from his conversation and clapped me on the shoulder. "I am glad to see you." He glanced behind me and around. "And surprised to see you without Jaerin. Is he well?"

"Well enough for most things, but not for another expedition. I made him promise to stay home."

"And you think he'll keep it?" Edmund drawled. One eyebrow quirked upward in semi-disbelief.

"Have you ever known him to deliberately break a promise?" I replied, half in jest, half in earnest.

"Only the one to stay out of trouble. Though he does claim that trouble finds him and he just has to get out of it."

"Therein you speak truth." I clasped Edmund's hand. "What is our situation?"

Instantly, the warrior and king reasserted itself in both my friends. Edmund knelt by the small Fox and whispered something that caused his ears to prick up and then Peter III (Petkin to avoid confusing him with his sire or grandsire—or the king) darted off with incredible speed for one so young. Perhaps a messenger if not a spy.

"We've received word of raiders along the western border—they've been killing Narnians. We aim to stop them," Peter said.

"Remnants of Alman's men?" Even with the man dead, I still felt a flash of anger with his name.

"Possibly," Edmund said. "They are considerably farther north than you ever encountered his men though."

"True. How many are we taking?"

"Seventy and five. Ten each of the Great Cats, Centaurs, Dwarves, Fauns, and Satyrs, five each of Dogs, and Eagles, four Wolves, three Bears and Monkeys, two Boars and Gryphons, and one Gorilla. And you of course. But we didn't count you."

I bowed. "I am glad I my aid is deemed so valuable as to be uncounted."

Before either king could reply, a trumpet call, clear and bright, rang out. The courtyard stilled. A single note, low and throbbing deep in my heart came from the carillon tower. Then another, just lower on the scale. Then climbing higher and falling low again the bells rolled together before falling into silence. From somewhere above, I caught the rippling rhythm of a harp and lyre playing together to awaken the dawn.

And the dawn did awaken. With joyous brilliance the sun poured its rays out over the land, gilding the long grasses and turning the grey stone castle to silver. Windows glinted like diamonds or rubies and sapphires, casting back the sunlight magnified a hundred fold. Low in the courtyard, we still stood in shadow but the queens on the steps were not. Lucy stood with hair unbound like a golden cloud, hands spread out and face turned up to the light, the smile on her face brighter than the dawn. More composed, but no less radiant, Susan held her hands out in front as if she would catch the brilliance in the cup of her hands and pour it back out with love on her people. Jewel and Song of Narnia indeed.

The last notes of the harp and lyre died away and we all shook ourselves free from the wonder that had enthralled us. No matter how many times I witnessed the dawn at Cair Paravel, or even at Castle Per, it would never cease to amaze me.

"Mount up, Jaer. There's our signal to leave." Peter's words drove the last of the morning song from my head.

"Dawn?"

"La, Sir Jaer, you've left your senses behind." Edmund grinned and pointed up to the highest tower. Two banners—Peter's and Edmund's—were slowly lowered from their post. "That's our signal. Our banners say we are not at home—who are we to argue?"

Peter shouted an order and the lines of soldiers—Lion alive, I had been blind to not notice them form into lines—marched smoothly out the gates. The kings ran up the stairs to their sisters for a swift embrace and then bounded back down them to leap on their mounts. I trotted to my own horse and swung up on him, meeting the kings just as Petkin raced down the stairs. A rolled bundle on his back did not dampen the kit's speed. He skidded to a halt in front of the horses.

"Your banner sire!" he gasped out.

A dryad, one of the queens' ladies, swept forward and deftly slid the banner from its harness. With a curtsy she offered it to the kings. "Your majesties."

"Sir Jaer?" King Peter said.

Swiftly I slid the flag pole from its place by my saddle and set it in its prepared holster. I took the banner from the dryad and lashed it to the pole with practiced ease. In my father's absence, it was my honor and duty to be banner-bearer and shield-carrier for the kings. A flick of my wrist and the great green banner blazoned with the red rampant lion unfurled in all its splendor.

As if summoned, a stream of light poured over the rim of the courtyard filling it with radiance. Silver and gold wrapped around my kings' heads, crowns of dawnlight replacing their usual metals. With a shout of joy, Peter turned his horse and galloped for the gates. Not a second behind his brother, Edmund followed.

How could I do less?


	4. Silver and Gold Crowns

_**Silver and Gold Crowns**_

The attack came out of nowhere.

The darkness of the night shattered as a hail of flaming arrows arced through the sky and descended on our small band of Narnians. A quarter of the band had no chance even to draw their weapons, cut down as they tried to tend to the wounded civilians. The remaining forces were thrown into confusion, scrambling about on the broken ground, trying desperately to avoid stepping on their fallen companions. Screams of Great Cats and the baying of Dogs, and the howling of Wolves mingled and filled the air.

I had just enough time to draw Faolán and sling my shield onto my arm before the next wave of arrows came. How I wished I wore more than the light leather armor! Flames took root in the broken roofs of the houses and shot up faster than I imagined possible. Had someone expected us? Poured flammable stuffs into the thatch?

"NARNIA! To arms!"

The roar of King Peter's voice rolled over the night, bringing clarity to my startled mind. I joined the Narnians who charged toward the voice of the High King. In a moment, I saw him, standing tall and golden in the light of the angry flames, the battle lust in his eyes. Beside him was King Edmund, as calm and cool as though he were about to take tea with his sisters. I smiled despite myself.

"Form ranks, Narnians! Jaer, the right flank, Edmund the left. I will hold center. Eagles and Grphons to the sky. Now!"

The Narnians needed no further orders. Our small companies fell into order behind us as the flyers took to the skies. It felt strange, not having Jaerin beside me, or knowing he was among the archers. But I was glad. He was not yet ready for a battle such as this looked to be.

But I did not have much time to think about that. A third shower of arrows descended, this one thinner than the others and practically ineffective. At least, that was what I thought at first. When I dropped my shield, a horde of men were charging at us.

Men. I thought we had dealt with all of the robber barons when we took out Alman. But no, these were not of the same. They did not hide their faces behind masks—but I almost wished they would.

"Charge!"

We were only a small party but we were under the command of the finest warriors this world had ever seen. In the battle against the White Witch, we had untrained boys for leaders and a fifth of the forces that she had. Against the Ettin Giants, we brought half the number. We were four against forty a fortnight since against Alman's brigands. We had no fear.

I beheaded the first warrior with a backhanded stroke and struck the second's sword-arm from his body without a thought. The third man was harder but he too fell to my blade. And then it was all blood and fire and fury. I had no time to think about what was happening, only to react. My companions disappeared, swept away from my side by the press of battle and I fought alone. The battle-rage niggled at the edges of my senses, offering me fresh strength, but I held back. Not yet. But perhaps soon. How dare these people invade our lands, strike down our people, and seek to destroy us! This was Narnia. This was my home. None would invade with impunity.

Suddenly, I heard a roar of fury and pain in a voice I knew well. Scarcely thinking, I whirled around and hurtled through the press. In an instant, I saw him. Peter was pinned against a burning house, six men attacking at once. An arrow protruded from his left shoulder—it must have been that that made him cry out. Across the way I saw Edmund, a whirlwind of silver in the fierce light of the fires, fighting toward his brother.

I too tried to reach them but someone leaped on my back in the midst of my distraction. Well, if he wanted to try that, so be it. I flipped him over my shoulder, using his own momentum against him and drove Faolán into his back. More men swept between me and my kings and I was pressed back. When I was free enough to look again, neither Peter nor Edmund were anywhere to be seen.

"Jaer!"

The snarl of a Great Cat caught my attention and I turned to see five men charging one of our Tigers. She was already wounded, three arrows in her flank but she fought back valiantly. Her partner was occupied by other soldiers and tried frantically to come to her aid. One man came at her from behind and brought his crossbow up. I snarled myself. Not while I was near.

Faolán sliced through his crossbow and quarrel like they were butter. My second stroke relieved him of his head. Now we formed a triangle, the two Tigers and I. It was not as good as having my brother at my back, but it would do.

I do not know how long we fought like that. Ash and arrows rained down from the sky, flames devoured all in their path, my arms grew weary and still the men came at us. I saw them cut down Tempest, a centaur who befriended me when first we came to Narnia, and then hack off his limbs once he was dead. I saw them disembowel my friends and leave them in agony. My anger grew, giving me new strength.

That was when I heard it. A cry that I had only heard once before in my life and begged Aslan that I would never hear again. The cry of King Edmund when his brother was cut down.

My companions heard it too and their ears pricked up. "Come cousins!" I cried. "To the kings!"

We charged recklessly toward the burning houses. The Tigers raced behind me, following in the path I cleared. I will never forget the sight I saw when I burst from the houses into a square of sorts. It haunts my dreams to this day.

Edmund stood in front of a smoldering hut, twin swords like circles of silver fire spinning on either side of him. He was burned and bloodied from a dozen wounds but his eyes were cold and hard. Deadly grace was in his hand and he cut down all who drew near. Yet he did not move his position even when it would have given him the advantage. My eyes searched for the High King and found him behind his brother. But Peter was not standing tall, fighting at his brother's back. Rather, he lay in a crumpled heap, crossbow quarrels sticking out of his arms and legs. I knew he was alive only because he managed to fling a dagger at a man that nearly slipped past Edmund's guard. But the dagger was poorly thrown and only wounded the man. It should have killed him.

I had thought I was angry before. I was not. Fury coursed through my veins like new wine and I flung myself against the enemy. First my friends and now my king. It was not to be borne. Faolán seemed to sing for joy as we cut our way through the hordes. The men parted before my wrath. In an instant, I found myself at Edmund's side with two snarling Tigers snapping at the enemy's flanks. The enemy fell back.

As soon as we arrived, Edmund dropped to his brother's side, checking for a pulse and carefully pulling some of the quarrels from his body. I stood over them, my sword ready in my hand. I heard him murmuring softly.

"Peter, Peter, Peter! Why do you have to be so blasted noble?"

"Keeps you in practice." My High King's words were fuzzy but carried his indomitable spirit nonetheless. Edmund gave a small choking laugh.

"You would." He looked up at me. "Jumped into a bloody batch of crossbowmen I hadn't seen. Took them out but not before they used him as a pincushion."

A sharp growl from my right alerted me to the rallying of our enemies. I looked to the skies, hoping for a glimpse of our flying cousins. But no swooping silhouettes showed themselves against the clouded sky. I could hear the battle still raging beyond the silent square but no Narnians broke through the burning houses.

"We can't stay here, Edmund," I said.

"I know." Edmund stood and shoved a lock of dark hair from his face. "Carve me a path, Jaer." And then he sheathed Shafelm IV and Tablesword II and bent back down to his brother. With strength that belied his slight frame, Edmund heaved Peter up.

"Kin walk, Ed," Peter slurred.

"And I can fly. Now!"

With the Tigers on our flanks, we charged. I do not think that they expected us to try _that_. We tore through them, fighting our way to the edge of the ambushed town. One of the Tigers fell before we got out of the square. The other almost reached the outskirts when a burning beam crashed down on his head. I wish I had known the names of those brave cousins.

Somehow, improbably, we reached the forest outside the town. Together Edmund and I turned to face the raging inferno. Still I could hear the cries of the soldiers who had followed us. I looked to my king.

Edmund's face was hard, hard as Blue River Steel and just as deadly. He looked once at his brother's face, pale and bloodied, vacant now with unconsciousness. Then he turned to me and gave me the weightiest charge in my life.

"Keep my brother safe."

And he handed Peter to me.


	5. Lost Silver

I ran.

I, Jaer Courage Peridanson Farsight, Knight and Lord of Narnia did that which I had never done before and never have since.

I ran from battle.

My battered king was in my arms, the chaos of battle behind me. Even unconscious, Peter moaned with pain as each thudding step jolted his wounded body. My arms were slick with sweat and blood, my side ached and I could scarcely breathe. But I ran.

_Constant Faith_ was the motto of my order, _What Must Be Done, Will Be Done_ the motto of my house. Over and over the words pounded through my head followed always by Edmund's command _Keep my brother safe._

Night faded. Dawn came. My legs trembled and I found that I was no longer running. Each step was agony. Peter was pale and limp. I struggled on.

The day dimmed. I passed a stream that I remembered vaguely from the day before—or was it two days ago?—we had rested there and Peter had started a water fight with Edmund

"Well now, what is this? A pretty prize I think for me." A shrill voice cackled from the shadows of a large elm. I stumbled to a stop. A hag stuck its ugly face around the trunk. "Two for one, eh?" She took a step closer.

"Back off, hag," I said. My voice was hoarse with exhaustion.

She cackled again. "Oh no, my little friend. I think not. There's nothing you can do, I think."

"But I can. Begone hag or taste my antlers."

A magnificent Stag stepped out from behind another tree to my right. He was young, but clearly strong. The hag shrieked and dove back into the cover of shadows. The Stag laughed.

"Cowards really those creatures. Always preying on the…Lion's mane!" The Stag gaped as I turned toward him. "What happened?"

We must have looked a sight, my king and I, both covered in blood, him unconscious and me drooping from exhaustion. But help was here.

"Ambush," I gasped. "A border village razed. King Edmund held the rearguard. King Peter…needs Queen's…Queen's cordial." Black spots swam in front of my vision and I fought for consciousness. "Get Queen Lucy's cordial…help King Edmun…" Darkness took me.

When I came to, I was lying in a small booth built out of branches. A Dwarf was leaning over me, peering at me through the bushiest set of red eyebrows I had ever seen. Despite my state, I knew him at once—one could never forget that head of hair. Achan smiled when he saw me looking back at him.

"Right then. You run hard, lordling. Might've taken us half a day agin to find ya if it weren't for Ebon's nose there." I followed his gesture and saw a sleek panther sunning himself in the clearing. "We had quite a time trackin' you and King Peter."

"King Peter!"

My fuzzy mind cleared in that awful moment and I bolted upright. And cried out in pain. Achan eased me back down on my rough pallet.

"Lie still, milord. Ye took a nasty gash to your side there. It's a wonder you didn't keel over carrying him." The Dwarf nodded toward a still form just behind him. "Don' worry, milord. He's still breathing."

"Has word been sent?"

"Aye. A fine young Doe who was hanging round 'ere when we showed up said her brother, Chervy, found ye here and figured he'd be more help as a messenger than a nursemaid. If he's as fast as she claims, then help'll be here soon."

I frowned. "Even galloping at his fastest, it is impossible for anyone to make a three day ride in one night. How long have I been unconscious?"

"Two days, milord. You covered a day's ride in your running. I dunno how ye did it, but ye did."

A day's ride? In a night and day's running? I could run fast, but not in the state I was in. And definitely not carrying someone. Praise to the Lion for he granted me wings. A long sigh escaped me. I looked over at Peter. He lay so still, nearly as pale as the bandages that wrapped his wounds, but I could just see the faint rise and fall of his chest. Sleep brushed at the edges of my senses but something looked wrong about Peter. My exhausted body pressed me to puzzle it out later but my mind could not rest yet. Then I knew.

King Peter was alone.

"Where is King Edmund?"


	6. Stand Strong

My question was Lucy's the moment she leaped from her Gryphon later that afternoon.

"Where is Edmund?"

"We don't know, Queen Lucy." I bowed my head slightly. "He stayed behind."

For a moment, horrified dismay raced across Lucy's face. But my valiant queen hid it swiftly. "Where's Peter then?"

"Here, milady." I gestured toward our booth and winced as the motion sent a flare of pain along my side.

Lucy nodded and hurried to her brother's pallet. I followed. Lucy's lips quivered but her hand did not tremble as she let one precious drop fall into Peter's mouth. A long moment passed in which we both held our breath. And then Peter gave a great shuddering cough and began to breathe deeply once more. He remained unconscious even as Lucy gently unbound his many wounds and wiped them clean with cloth pulled from her satchel. Finally satisfied, she stood and turned to me.

"Sir Jaer. Report."

I snapped to attention, recognizing the authority in my queen's voice. Young she was but none could challenge the Valiant.

"We were attacked without warning, Lady. I am uncertain of the numbers of our attackers or the numbers of our people slain. There are twenty-two of us remaining here, barring myself and the High King. King Edmund organized a rearguard and gave us time to get to safety. We do not know the status of our rearguard."

"Dead like as not," someone muttered from the ranks. "Ill-begotten sons of Tash…"

"Silence," Queen Lucy gestured sharply and the murmuring ceased. "If they are dead we will avenge them. If they live, we will free them. Gather yourselves. We will march in an hour. Beniah, we need a stretcher for the High King. See to it." A faun nodded and gathered a few others to assist him. Lucy watched them go. "Sir Jaer, attend me."

"Yes, my queen."

Lucy led me a short distance away from the camp—far enough away that no one would be able to understand soft conversation but close enough to call for help if we needed it. She stared out into the trees, her back to me, arms folded across her chest, stiff and straight as a new-made arrow.

I waited. When Lucy did turn around, the queen was gone and a frightened and furious young woman stood in her place.

"What happened, Jaer? How were they separated?" Her voice trembled.

Well that she should ask. Peter and Edmund knew they were stronger in a melee—nigh unbeatable really—so long as they stayed together. They knew and lived by Orieus' mantra _Back to back and side to side, each his brother's shield._ Lived and died by it.

"Edmund said that Peter jumped into a clump of crossbowmen that would have killed him. Peter killed them instead but not before he was injured—as you saw."

"Yes."

"I…I found them right after that. Edmund was over Peter, guarding him with such fury that the enemy could scarcely draw near. I and two Tigers gave Edmund a bit of breathing space. And then…" I swallowed hard. "Then we cleared a path while Edmund carried Peter out. I made it and they made it but the Tigers didn't." Lucy bowed her head in sorrow. "He handed Peter to me, Lucy. He handed him to me and told me to keep him safe. And so I ran. I left Edmund to his fate."

"You did what you had to do." Lucy's voice was harsh. "If you had not run, I would have lost two brothers instead of…instead of…" Her face crumpled and tears poured down her cheeks. "Oh, Jaer!"

With that piteous cry, Lucy flung herself at me and clung to me as if she were drowning. Sobs wracked her body and I wrapped my arms around her. I held her, stroking her hair and letting her weep, just as I would for my own sister. Tears that would not come before poured down my own face.

When our tears were exhausted, Lucy pushed back from me and rubbed at her face. She managed a small smile.

"Thank you, Jaer."

"It is my honor, _chwaerind_." I deliberately used the old Archenlandish term that roughly meant sister-friend. The kings and queens were as close as family to me. _Brawind_, I called the kings—brother-friend. Only Jaerin was dearer to me than they.

My efforts won me another smile and Lucy flung her arms around me again in a quick hug. Unfortunately for me, she squeezed along my wound. I gasped in pain. Lucy pulled back instantly.

"Jaer! You're hurt too. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You had other things to attend too," I said through clenched teeth. Lion alive but that had hurt!

"Let me see."

I knew better than to argue with the healer-queen so I eased my tunic up, revealing the stained bandage around my ribs. I could not help but feel a bit puzzled over the red seeping through the coarse green fabric and turning it to brown. I thought it had stopped bleeding.

"Oh Jaer. Sit down."

I obeyed. With quick, practiced hands, Lucy unwound the clumsy bandage revealing the deep gash just below my ribcage. Red lines stretched like grasping fingers from the wound. Lucy gasped in dismay and reached for her cordial. Odd, I had not realized it was that bad. An instant later, I felt the all too familiar sensation of muscle and sinew knitting back together. At least it was not as nauseating as bones resetting themselves.

"Thank you, Lucy."

"If you'd told me sooner, I would have tended to it already." Her voice was lightly accusing.

"La, my queen, but you had other things you needed to do first." I regretted my choice of words instantly—Edmund always said "la"—but Lucy kept her composure.

"We should go back. They'll have the stretcher ready."

"Aye, that they will." Lucy started back but I caught her arm and stayed her. "You are not alone, Queen Lucy. I am with you. We will stand strong together. We will not falter."

"For Edmund's sake," she whispered.

"And for Peter's."


	7. Silver of the Right and Wrong

By the time we returned to the camp, no one would have known that Lucy or I had been crying. We both knew the importance of appearing strong to our people especially when the situation was grim. Lucy made a slow review of the twenty-two soldiers remaining of the seventy-five that had set out with the kings and I only a few days before. To each one, she spoke words of comfort and encouragement, urging them to stand strong even as I had exhorted her. She rebound the wounds of many as well. I had already inspected our small contingent and knew what she would find but the honor of speaking to one of Narnia's sovereigns was enough to lift the hearts of even the most despondent soldier.

As we walked among the soldiers, a thick blanket of grey clouds drew over the lowering sun. It felt much later than the three hours after noon that it was. Swarms of gnats buzzed incessantly at our faces and necks. I set a satyr to fanning Peter to discourage the pests from landing on him.

When Lucy finished her review, we lifted Peter onto the stretcher Beniah and some others had cobbled together from branches and cloaks. Two satyrs carried him as we made our slow way back toward Cair Paravel. We did not march far that afternoon. The cordial could heal wounds but did not instantly rejuvenate energy and despite my long unconsciousness and later rest, I was exhausted after only a few hours. My soldiers too, were weary with sorrow and battle.

I called a halt about supper time and we ate what was left of the provisions we had carried with us. Lucy devoured the beef jerky and sweet biscuit—she probably had not eaten since she received the Stag's message.

A steady drizzle began at nightfall—or what we guessed was nightfall. It seemed fitting. Narnia should mourn for the loss of her king, not keep smiling as though all were well. With our limited supplies, we could do little by way of shelter from the wet but a few fauns rigged together a lean-to with branches and the tattered remnants of my cloak for Peter. Lucy alternated between huddling beneath it by her brother and pacing in front of the shelter. Finally, she curled up against her oldest brother and drifted off to sleep.

Weary as I was, I could not sleep. I made rounds, checking the sentries, ensuring that the wounded were still comfortable. When my steps grew unsteady, I sat against a tree and watched the vague shapes that were the camp, wrapping my arms about me to try to stay warm. After a little while, Achan came over and sat down beside me, saying nothing.

Doubts plagued me. I'd had no time to consider what had happened prior to the ambush, or even during it, since I woke. I was too busy to think about it. I wished quite heartily that that were still the case.

We had Tigers, Panthers, Dogs, and Wolves. We had Eagles and Gryphons. And Centaurs, Dwarves, Fauns, Satyrs, Boars, Monkeys, and a Gorilla. Most had far better ears and eyes than any human. Had we been so confident as to pass by signs that would have warned us? Or had our attackers been so clever as to be able to hide every sign of their presence? I could stand my own thoughts no longer and so turned to the silent dwarf at my side.

"What happened, Achan?"

"At the battle, sir?" the dwarf replied.

"Yes at the battle. What else would I be talking about?" I snapped. "Why didn't we have warning?"

Achan shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I expect we just got careless."

"And that carelessness nearly cost my king his life, Dwarf. It may have cost the other his."

"I'm sorry milord."

" 'Sorry' isn't good enough when my king's life is in danger." It was unreasonable of me and part of me knew it, but I needed someone, something, to lash out at right then and Jaerin was not available.

The dwarf stood up in a huff. "If that's how ye feel, my lord, perhaps you'd like to go back and start looking for him on your own. Good night."

Petulance does not become a knight and lord of Narnia but I stuck my tongue out at Achan's retreating back anyway. I was cold, exhausted, and worried beyond words. How could we not have known that the village was a trap? Why did _I_ not know? Had Aslan given me some sign and I just ignored it? I tilted my head back against the tree.

"Oh, Aslan! Where did I gone wrong? What did I miss?" I had not felt such despair since the day we heard of Mother's death. It was crushing and I had no one beside me to bear me up. I bowed my head in grief and hugged my knees to my chest. "Let us find him, Aslan. _Please_."

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, someone was shaking my shoulder. Hard. Training took over and I grabbed the hand and jerked its owner to the ground. In seconds, I had the intruder pinned beneath me with my knife at his throat.

"What do you want?"

"Easy there. I thought your vision better than that."

The voice and face were that of my brother but my foggy mind could not comprehend it. I stumbled backward, staring at the apparition visible in the faint pre-dawn light. "Jaerin?"

"In the flesh, brother. Though very nearly not. You're faster than I thought." Jaerin sat up rubbing at his throat.

"How…?"

"Another Gryphon. Pair actually—Sunflight and Quivver took turns carrying me. Didn't Lucy tell you? She flew to you but I kept on. I wanted to check the battle site."

"She didn't. Ach, Jaerin! But I am glad to see you." I pulled my little brother to me in a tight embrace. He did not resist. Nearly squeezed the breath out of me actually. When we parted there were tears in his eyes. "What is it, Jaerin?"

He could not meet my eyes. "I was afraid we wouldn't be in time. When Chervy arrived with news that King Peter and another man were wounded in the forest, I...I made Lucy douse me with cordial so I could run again and went to the Gryphons. She wasn't far behind me."

"But you didn't stop at out camp." Perhaps my tone was more accusing than I intended because Jaerin winced.

"I know. I wanted to. Aslan knows how much I wanted too. But I saw you standing in the clearing and knew you were well enough. I knew that if you had been the one with Peter then something happened to Edmund. For the others' sake, I had to find out. So I flew on."

I tensed. "What did you find, Jaerin?"

"Jaerin!" Lucy's cry interrupted any reply my brother might have made. We both stood as our youngest queen ran toward us. She flung her arms around Jaerin in an enthusiastic hug. "I had not expected you so soon."

"Good morning to you too, Lucy." Jaerin extricated himself from her embrace and bowed, smirking the whole time.

"What news do you bring?"

Jaerin's smile vanished. "Naught good."

Lucy's whole body tensed. "Tell me everything."

"The village is gone. Nothing left of it but charred beams and piles of ashes. Whoever was there did their work thoroughly."

"And the rearguard?" Lucy's voice was tight.

"Dead. Almost to a man." Lucy went white and might have fainted but Jaerin reached out and caught her. "Wait. I said almost. They had set this a little apart from everything else, on a pole so we couldn't miss it."

Jaerin dug in his satchel and pulled out a helmet. A very familiar helmet. I did not need the elegant tracery along the rim to tell me to whom it belonged.

"Edmund," Lucy breathed. She reached out trembling hands to take the helmet from Jaerin.

"Aye, Queen Lucy. I think he is alive."

Lucy's face grew hard, hard as iron, and a flame lit in the depths of her eyes turning the brown to gold. "Then we will free him. Thank you, Jaerin." Wheeling about, our youngest queen marched off to the shelter where Peter still lay unconscious. Her knuckles were white where they gripped Edmund's helmet.

"I did not tell all," Jaerin murmured when she was out of earshot.

"What?" I turned back to face my brother. He was not looking at me but at some invisible point above Lucy's head. "What do you mean?"

Jaerin looked to me and I nearly gasped in shock. His eyes, usually so bright and full of joy were flat and empty. No merriment glimmered in their green depths, only fury the likes of which I had seen only once.

"They hewed them as they lay dead, Jaer. The raiders. They hacked the limbs from every Narnian and scattered them across the ashes of the dead town. And this was in the helmet."

He opened his clenched hand revealing a small tuft of dark hair. My breath came in a sharp hiss. "They dared…"

"They dared." Jaerin folded his hand closed again and stuffed the grisly memento into his satchel. "Edmund lives, but I do not think his life is guaranteed."

For a time, we stood there, my brother and I, silently vowing to do whatever it took to reclaim our friend and king. Slowly, I grew aware of a strange sound in the air and looked up to try to find its source. Jaerin was already watching through the branches, a feral grin on his face.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"The Host of Narnia. You didn't think we'd have to go all the way back to the Cair for them did you?"

* * *

_A/N-My apologies for the long gap between updates. I decided I wanted to add some more to this chapter and it took me a lot longer than I expected to find the time to do so. Thank you for your patience!_


	8. Gold Comes

As if the sounds of the army approaching summoned him, Peter stirred at last. Lucy nearly tackled him to the ground the instant he sat up but Peter managed to catch himself. I could see him scanning the trees and the skies, ever the warrior, even as he returned Lucy's hug. I could also see the moment when he realized that Edmund was not there. It was in the slight frown on his lips, the narrowing of his eyes, and the tensing of his arms. He pried Lucy off and though I could not hear him, I could read the question that he asked.

"Where is Edmund?"

Jaerin sighed. I knew he had seen the same signs that I did. "He's not going to take this well. Let's hope he can hold it together while there are others around."

"He will."

Without further words, Jaerin and I strode over to where Peter and Lucy now stood close together. Instinctively, Peter had moved so that he was half a step ahead of Lucy, his right shoulder just in front of her left. We all knew Lucy was more than capable of defending herself, and that Jaerin and I were no threat to her, but the protectiveness of the stance spoke volumes of Peter's state of mind.

"Edmund is captured?" Peter said as we approached.

"Aye, Peter," Jaerin answered. "Or so we guess."

"Guess?" Peter's voice was hard.

"The raiders left a token which we believe indicates Edmund's capture," Jaerin replied calmly, undeterred by Peter's ire. "Until we search the area more thoroughly, we won't know exactly where they're headed with him."

Peter was not so angry yet that he could not be pacified. This was not the first time either king had been captured. In fact, it had become something of a regular occasion. Not that it made it any easier to bear. (Though, after the fates of the last few groups who had attempted to kidnap one of the Royals in exchange for ransom, it was a wonder that anyone else would bother.) The High King nodded slowly though the tension in his body did not dissipate.

Before Peter could say anything else, the growing rumble in the earth reached a crescendo and General Orieus thundered into view followed almost instantly by my father and Sir Kanell. All three came to a rearing halt, scanning the area with a swiftness that belied the amount of detail I'm sure they saw. A moment passed and then Father was off his horse and running toward me. Orieus too hurried over to our small group. Father nearly knocked me over with the force of his embrace and Orieus actually lifted Peter off the ground. Seconds later, Peter was wrapped up by Father and Orieus was gripping my shoulders.

"Where is King Edmund?" Orieus asked as soon as we finished our greetings.

"Lost, but not for good," Jaerin answered.

"Report, Wolfsbane, Farsight, Peridanson." General replaced friend in an instant.

Quickly, Peter sketched the events that led up to the ambush and then I detailed what happened after he fell unconscious. Jaerin added his report of the desecrated village, leaving nothing out this time. Lucy paled slightly at his description of the raiders' brutality but maintained her composure. The other captains gathered around, listening to our tale. Orieus's face was grim when we finished.

"Dark news," he said. "We were not adequately prepared for this level of assault."

"And whose fault was that?" Peter demanded, his eyes dark with fury.

"We acted in accordance with the information we had, King Peter. Do not blame yourself. Now is the time to act, not try to lay blame. What do you intend to do?"

"We go after them. Now."

Kanell gasped. "Your majesty! You're barely recovered from your wounds. You're in no state—"

"And the ones who dealt me these wounds have taken my _brother_, Sir Kanell." Peter snapped. "You would do well to remember that."

I shifted to stand to the left of King Peter, watching as he mercilessly dissected every argument his counselors and commanders gave against marching immediately after our mysterious attackers. Only my father and General Orieus said nothing against it. They both knew the bond between those brothers, knew that nothing could stop one if the other were taken.

My own brother stood beside me, perfectly still though I knew he was aware of everything that was happening around us. My grip tightened around my sword as my thoughts drifted back to the ambush yet again. King Edmund had sacrificed himself for us. He had been fighting off the raiders while I ran from them. I had left my king, my friend, my almost-brother in the hands of evil men. How could I? I felt a hand tighten on my shoulder.

"Peace, brother," Jaerin whispered. "You saved one king. We will yet save the other."

The roiling anger in my gut eased and found a new target. "They will pay."

Jaerin nodded. "Aye. But I do not think it will be us who tears the price from them."

I looked at Peter and Lucy. Magnificent and Valiant. Wrath and Fury. The enemies of Narnia did not know what they had unleashed upon themselves. Had they learned nothing from history? The only person entirely capable of holding back the wrath of the High King was the Just King. Perhaps the Valiant Queen could temper him, but looking at her face, I am not sure she would want too.

Some three hundred of Narnia's fastest soldiers surrounded us, scattered among the trees, waiting for our signal. I could feel their fury at the brutality of our attackers. The story had spread quickly among the waiting warriors.

But so be it. If our people knew of the atrocities, they would be more inclined to put a stop to them.

"Have you a plan, King Peter?" General Orieus demanded.

"Yes!" Peter snapped.

I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrows in disbelief. He had been conscious for all of half an hour and already had a plan?

"We march now, find them, and get Edmund back. Is that simple enough for you?"

"Simple enough," my father spoke up for the first time. "Do you object to continuing this council as we march?"

Peter blinked twice and the anger in his eyes cooled slightly. Perhaps he recognized at last that we were trying to help him after all.

"I do not object. Bring the horses."

Peter and Lucy turned away and stared steadfastly into the forest. Jaerin and I took a step back, allowing them a moment of pseudo privacy. Our king and queen stood motionless, Lucy with her hand on Peter's back. The morning sun danced through Peter's blond and Lucy's red-gold hair like a flickering flame and their mail shirts shone like silver where they peeked out of their clothes, making them seem to glow.

But it was not a comforting glow. Rather, it reminded me of the way the air shimmers around a fire when the heat is intense enough to melt steel. Wrath and Fury, my mind had named these two—and rightly so. Magnificent and Valiant. Where would they be without the Just and Gentle to temper them?

My father's hand clamping down on my shoulder cut short my musings, though what was on my mind was also on his.

"How are they holding up?" he asked, glancing at our sovereigns.

"Lucy's been wonderful," I said. "Peter…You've seen him conscious as long as I have."

"This will not be an easy road."

"Would we be any different, Father?" Jaerin said softly.

Father shook his head. I could not help but notice the grey streaks in his hair. "No." Abruptly he straightened and all traces of sorrow vanished. "Selim, Roderic, over here."

Two Satyrs walked toward us leading our horses. Peter's Unicorn, Flisk, trotted alongside. A fifth horse, also saddled and bridled, sidled up and shoved Lucy's horse out of the group. I recognized him immediately.

"Phillip?' I said. "I thought you were sick?"

The Horse snuffed indignantly. "Every time I let Edmund out of my sight, he gets hurt. I'm coming along."

"Phillip…"

"He's my boy, Sir Jaer," he said, as if that settled everything.

And in a way, it did. An intense bond of loyalty bound this Horse to Edmund. Many of the other Talking Horses scorned Phillip for allowing himself to be ridden even in peacetime but the good Animal did not agree with their assessment. In fact, I heard he had gone so far as to tell some of them that they were "bloody fools" for not recognizing the honor implicit in being the chosen mount of the king chosen by Aslan. I believe only the fact that he had been sick had kept him from coming along earlier—and that was probably supplemented by an order from King Edmund.

At the sound of Phillip's voice, Peter and Lucy had turned and now they regarded him with solemn stares. The Horse bowed his head. "If it please you, I'm coming along and I'd be honored to carry Queen Lucy until we find Edmund. And even if it doesn't please you, I'm coming along."

Peter and Lucy looked at each other for a moment then Lucy nodded. "I thank you."

The closest thing to a smile I would see on Peter's face for weeks—no more than a twitch of his lips upward really—flashed and was gone. He looked at us.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready, sire." Jaerin and I spoke as one.

"General Peridan, give the signal."


	9. Terror Gold

I do not think it will ever cease to amaze me how silently a Narnian army can move when the need arises. Only the fact that I knew there were Great Cats, Bears, Deer, and Wolves surrounding us enabled me to be aware of their almost-soundless presence. The two Buffalo and the Dogs made more noise but the hoofbeats of our steeds and of the Centaurs nearly drowned them out.

Father and Orieus flanked the king and queen while Jaerin, Kanell, and I rode just after. Peter and Lucy looked eerily similar from behind. Both stared directly ahead, their backs sword-straight. Lucy's hair was darker, redder, than Peter's but they shared the same tanned complexion. They even tilted their heads at the same angle to listen. Golden King and Golden Queen, lit from within with burning wrath.

The quiet of the woods oppressed my heart. The air was heavy, as with approaching storm, though all I knew of weather indicated a fair day. Only the faintest of breezes stirred the branches and no birds sang. It was as if even the dumb animals could sense the import of our journey.

"What do you intend to do when we find the village?" Orieus asked, his deep voice shattering the uneasy silence that hung between us.

"Find the raider's path and follow them, of course," Peter snapped.

"How?" the general demanded in return. His voice was hard and stern, managing to cut through Peter's anger.

"I…I don't know." Surrounded as he was by only close friends, Peter's façade weakened and I saw his fear and worry.

"Then we will make a plan. Do not lose hope, majesty."

"Come on, Peter." Lucy reached over and placed a hand on her brother's arm. Since her breakdown in the forest, my young queen had maintained a steely composure before everyone. I wondered how long it would last. "Edmund always said there was none better at planning than you."

Peter choked back a harsh sob. "I said that of him."

"And we all said it of the both of you," Jaerin put in. His tone was not quite cheerful, but it was light enough to brighten the dark mood that settled over all of us. "Now, Great and Royal Majesty, I suggest you stop mourning for a king that is _not_ dead and help us plan how we are to get him back."

"I'm not mourning him!"

Jaerin snorted. "Indeed. So how are we getting him back?"

The combined glares of Peter and Lucy did little to faze my ever-cheery brother. He met their gazes calmly and with one eyebrow raised in challenge. At last, they turned back around and stared forward in stony silence.

Jaerin leaned toward me. "Thirty-eight seconds and he'll be ready," he whispered.

"Twenty-seven."

"Too angry for that quick a turn around. Start counting."

Lion's mane! What was it about my brother that could have us joking about how long it would take for Peter to formulate a plan to find Edmund? Only once had we been in circumstances so dark that he could not find something to laugh about. Even if the only thing to laugh about was the ridiculousness of the odds against us.

"What can you tell us of their path from your flight, Jaerin?" Peter asked precisely thirty-seven seconds after Jaerin said to start counting. "Could you see which way they went?"

Jaerin smirked at me before answering. "No, Peter. Honestly, but for the devastation, I would not have known anyone had been there at all. I didn't stay long though. I just poked around a bit, found the helmet, and then decided I'd be better off in the air. I rather felt as if I were being watched."

Really? He neglected to mention that little fact before.

"Then as soon as the Eagles and Gryphons report we are nearing the ambush site, we will fan out and surround the area. Let the Wolves search to the west, the Great Cats to the north, and all other Beasts the south. The Satyrs and Fauns will remain with us and search the rubble thoroughly. Let the Eagles and Gryphons remain aloft."

"Very good, sire." Orieus said. My father nodded his approval. "Kanell, Jaer, Jaerin, spread the word."

The three of us saluted and split apart; Kanell moved to the south and I to the north. Jaerin pulled out his flute and signaled our aerial patrols. It did not take long for me to find all the captains—identifiable by the blue sash or band they wore—but I did not return immediately to the center, instead riding along the left flank for a time. After a little while, I began to notice an unusual number of fresh cut trees. And not just old tries either, but young saplings as well.

Moments after I realized this fact, an Eagle's sharp warning cry came from above. My heart leapt and I had turned my mount and urged him into a gallop before I truly knew what I was doing. My one thought was to get to the center and protect my king as his brother had asked of me. Then Jaerin's flute shrilled a "safe, but come" message. My pulse slowed marginally. Altering course again, I made for the lilting sounds.

Unsurprisingly, Jaerin was with the king and queen. They and Father and Orieus had halted at the edge of a large, man-made clearing. It was obviously new because many of the leaves were still green. An Eagle with a Captain's ribbon around her ankle perched on one of the stumps, feathers ruffled in indignation.

"…Trees! All of them!" she cried. "Each one cruelly felled."

Obviously I had missed something. It did not take long to find out what.

"It is true, your majesties," a regal, black Panther added, sliding out of the shadows of the trees. "We have found others of the Waking Trees scattered through the forest. The Dryads who first brought news of the raiders presence are no more."

"What!" Lucy gasped. "They slew the Dryads? How? Why?"

"The why is easy," Jaerin said. "To keep them from warning anyone. The how, well, beyond the obvious method," he waved at the stumps and fallen branches, "I find myself wondering if they had Narnian help."

"_Narnian_ help?" four voices chorused. Only Peter and I remained silent.

"Not good Narnians, obviously," Jaerin said. "But yes, Narnian. Or something of that sort."

Though it hardly seemed possible, Lucy's shoulders tensed further. "What are you suggesting, Jaerin? That the ambush was a trap laid by our own people?" Her voice was as cold as ice and just as hard

"Not the ambush—the Trees. Only a Narnian, or some other magical creature, can tell a Tree from a tree. Maybe it was a rogue Dryad or Dwarf or even one of the Fell Creatures like that Hag Jaer saw the other day. Hags and Wer-wolves can look human enough when they choose."

"And so the Dryads paid for our warning with their lives," Peter snarled. "Yet more to add to the raiders' account." He stared for a moment longer at the carnage of the Trees. "Send a messenger to the Dryads at the Cair that they may offer their fallen brethren full honors. We press onward."

The Eagle nodded and launched herself into the skies even as the Panther melted back into the shadows. Peter turned to face us.

"Understand this, friends," he said, his voice dark with anger, "We will not cease our pursuit until these raiders have paid for their affront to this land and to her people. We stop for nothing. Am I clear?"

Oh yes. Very clear.

We would not cease our pursuit until the raiders were dead—or we were.

Very clear indeed.


	10. Riding Forth, Fierce and Bold

It was high noon on the second day since Peter woke when we reached the ambush site. Bright, golden sunlight poured down on the remnants of the village illuminating the scene of the carnage with horrifying clarity.

I wished heartily that it was dark.

A flock of carrion birds circled over the ruins cawing angry protests at being disturbed, their voices harsh in the sun-stained air. A light breeze blew over the wreckage stirring the ashes and bringing with it a foul stench. I nearly gagged.

"Oh my." Lucy coughed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. "Oh my."

Jaerin dug into his pocket and produced a clean handkerchief which he tied around her face. "That might help," he said. "Might."

Beniah, a faun, left the ring of sentries that guarded the death-scene from further degradation and bowed to the king and queen.

"Are you sure you want to see this, Majesties?" he asked.

"Yes," Peter answered sharply.

"Lucy?" I asked softly. My young queen was almost as pale as the handkerchief.

"I need to see," she choked out.

Beniah nodded. "Then follow in my footsteps. It would be unwise to walk elsewhere."

Memories of the devastation we saw would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

It had been six days since the battle. Six days for the carrion birds to feast. Six days of rain and hot sun. Six days for bodies to begin to decay. Six days.

And the raiders had no respect for the dead. None. Not content with slaughtering our people, they had mutilated their bodies after death. Though I knew I had friends among the dead, there was no way to identify them. Easier to find the legendary Firestones on the Secret Hill than to tell one body from another. There was not one whole corpse in all that sickening scene. Even their armor and clothing had been stripped away. Scavengers and thieves as well as murderers.

I do not know what was in the others' hearts when we came at last to the end of the destruction and to the spear shaft on which Edmund's helmet had been mounted. I only know that the horror I felt at the outrage perpetrated on my land by these people—People! Ha! Their actions were worse than those of dumb beasts for they knew what evil they wrought and took pleasure in it—My horror turned to anger, cold and hard in my heart. These…_creatures_ I could slay without pity.

And they had my king. My friend. My brawind—my almost-brother.

_Peter's_ brother.

Lucy was the first of us to speak. Jaerin's handkerchief had slipped from her face and how hung around her neck but she did not seem to notice. Tears rolled down cheeks flushed with anger.

"Was it like this when you came, Jaerin." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Aye, Lucy. Though not as bad. It hadn't been as long."

"And this _is_ where they left the bloody message?"

I wasn't sure if she spoke literally or meant the word as a curse. Possibly both.

"Aye," Jaerin answered.

"Then let us leave them—and anyone else who comes here—a message of our own," Peter said.

Leaning over, he wrenched the spear from the ground and spurred his mount to the narrow swath of unburned grass near the trees. In a fierce motion, he plunged the weapon into the earth again then reached into his saddlebags. Before I had time to wonder what he was doing, Peter pulled out a Narnian standard. He lashed it to the spear then reached into his bag again and pulled out a smaller banner.

Edmund's.

Peter tied the standard beneath the green and crimson of Narnia and once more pulled the spear from the ground. Brandishing it aloft, he shouted to his troops.

"Narnians! Hear my words. You have seen how these accursed barbarians have treated your fallen brethren. They have no concept of revinim, no thought or care for others. They have taken captive your king, our brother, for their own evil purposes. We will not stand for this! We will pursue these barbarians to the edge of the world if we must to avenge our brethren!"

A great roaring cheer rose up from the woods—Great Cats, Wolves, and Dogs howled their agreement in chorus with the Eagles and Gryphons overhead. The Buffalo bellowed and the Centaurs, Fauns, and Satyrs shouted.

"For Narnia!" someone yelled.

"Aye, for Narnia!" Peter called. "Let these noble Narnians who gave their lives to insure our safety be buried with all honor. This standard shall mount their grave and serve as acknowledgement of the sacrifice they made for us."

Another cheer rose from Narnian throats. And just for a moment, I Saw. More clearly than ever before, I saw what would be.

The rubble, ash, and bloated bodies vanished, replaced by tall green grace covering a long low mound on the eastern edge of the wide clearing. A white stone, as tall as I and at least ten paces long stood at its base near the center. Though I could not quite read it, I knew the names of everyone who had fallen in the ambush was engraved on that stone with loving care. And flying proudly from the highest point of the mound, Edmund's banner surmounted by Narnia's Lion.

"Protector's Green," I gasped.

"What?" Peter turned to me in confusion.

"This place will be called 'Protector's Green.' They will not be forgotten."

Everyone stared at me. I don't suppose any of us, me included, would ever get used to me knowing things that I should not be able to know.

"Well," Jaerin said after a moment. "I suppose that is some comfort. With your permission, King Peter, Queen Lucy, I'll organize a burial brigade."

"See to it," Peter said.

"Chose the slowest runners," Orieus interjected. "We will not wait once we find the intruders' trail and it is better they tend the fallen than slow us down."

"Understood. But don't you dare try to leave without me!"

Leaping from his mount, Jaerin ran along the edges of the trees calling out to the troops scattered in search of a trail. Within minutes, he had about thirty Narnians at work digging a trench on the eastern side of the clearing. I smirked slightly. I hadn't even told him where to dig.

While Jaerin organized his brigade, Father and Kanell trotted to the southern fringe and joined the searchers. Orieus moved north with Peter leaving me, Lucy and Philip to add our efforts to the Wolves' hunt. For the most part, we hung back from the pack, careful to keep from obscuring any trail or scent that might be left after the rains that had mercifully kept the fire from spreading to the woods.

Perhaps one, silent, anxious hour had passed when the lead Wolf's ears pricked up. Lucy tensed—though it hardly seemed possible for her to be wound tighter than she already was. I could see the tension in her back and shoulders, in the way she held herself perfectly straight and did not relax into the motion of her Horse.

"What is it, Keefang?" Lucy called.

"A moment more and I will know," the Wolf replied.

Keefang gave a short huffing bark and the other Wolves immediately raced to his position. Noses to the ground, they quartered the area, sniffing high up on the tree trunks and pawing through leaves. Suddenly, another of the Wolves stopped. Throwing back his head, he gave a long, keening howl that sent shivers through every nerve in my body. The others froze for an instant then added their wild voices to his. My horse and Philip both shifted uneasily.

"Glad they're on our side," Philip snorted.

The howling stopped as abruptly as it began. Arthur Ravenwolf, oldest of the clan turned toward us, eyes gleaming with predatory glee.

"We have found the trail."


	11. Silver Tarnish

The trail the Wolves found was in the form of one of Edmund's tiny throwing daggers he always carried (to this day I have no idea how many knives he and Lucy hid about their person's. Lucy probably managed more in those skirts of hers.) The fact that it was Edmund's dagger and not one of the enemies could mean one of several things. Edmund could have put up a fight here and they never found the small blade—but if that were the case I would have expected to find the knife in the tree trunk, not buried at its roots. The raiders could have been careless and accidentally left the knife but given what I'd seen of them this seemed improbable. Or, and this seemed the most likely scenario, Edmund himself had hidden the dagger there so we would know to find him.

But if Edmund hid a _knife_ it meant he was too gravely injured or too closely guarded to escape on his own.

And that was a week ago.

It seemed the same thoughts had occurred to Peter because he paled a little as he took the knife from me. Wiping it gently clean of dirt and leaves, he fingered the slender blade as if the cold metal could transport him to his brother. After a moment, he threaded it into his belt so that the deadly weapon appeared to be no more than a decorative emblem. Which was probably how Edmund had concealed it from the raiders.

"There is little scent, sire," Arthur Ravenwolf said. "But we would know that dagger anywhere. The raiders went east."

"And we will follow. Orieus."

The centaur general raised a horn to his lips and blew a long mournful note that stretched on until the earth throbbed and my ears felt as though they would burst. That sound would carry for miles upon miles and part of me hoped our enemies would hear it. Let them know we were coming for our king. Let them tremble.

Let Edmund hope.

Crashing through the brush with all the grace of a giant, Jaerin broke the spell of the horn. His green eyes were alight with a feral joy as he looked from me to Peter to Lucy and back to me again. A smile that had nothing to do with happiness and everything to do with deadly intent spread across his face.

"So the hunt is on," he said. "Oh yes."

The hunt was certainly on. The Eagles and Gryphons swept off to the west, scouting the country from above. The keen-eyed, sharp-eyed, and skilled trackers spread out and search for tracks. Jaerin was among them; leaving his horse with me, he roamed the woods with the Wolves. Lucy too left Phillip (much to the Horse's dismay) and went on foot through the trees with the grace of a Dryad.

Though we knew the direction, it would have been folly to advance too quickly and so risk destroying more clues. So we proceeded with caution and agonizing slowness. Unable to help, Peter was fidgety and short-tempered all afternoon—while a skilled strategist, my High King was utterly rubbish at tracking. I too could do no more than wait. I was better than Peter in the woods but no match for Jaerin or Lucy.

It was dusk when Lucy came upon a half-burned leather strap with a bit of glass imbedded in its end. The Dogs said it smelled of Edmund and the fauns said it could not be more than four days since it was burnt. It seemed our raiders were a touch careless and thought themselves safe from pursuit.

"We should camp here for the night," my father said as Peter tucked the leather strap into his satchel. "It is as good a place as we're likely to find."

"And let them add to their lead?" Peter snapped. "We press on."

"We risk losing the trail entirely or passing other signs in the night," Father replied. He kept his tone calm and quietly respectful, careful to avoid irritating our anxious king. "Also, dawnlight may reveal new evidence here."

"We've obviously gained already," Jaerin put in. "They're being cautious but I don't think they expected to be followed this quickly. They're taking their time."

"Time is the one thing Edmund doesn't have," Peter said.

"But they're right, Peter. Oh!—How I hate it, but they're right." Lucy's fists were clenched tight at her sides so that her knuckles were turning white. "We won't be able to see at all soon. The Ravenclaws and Great Cats might but not well enough. These people are too _good_ at hiding."

My queen almost wailed the last sentence and it was this, I think, more than the logical arguments that made Peter pause. Trapped in his anger and fear, he could still see how close his sister was to breaking after the horrors of the day. Edmund always said that Peter was more apt to reason with his heart than his head, especially where his family was concerned. For a moment, fear for his brother and new worry for his sister warred in his eyes. Then his shoulders slumped the barest fraction and he nodded to my father.

"Give the order to make camp, Peridan. Orieus, see to the arrangements."

The two generals nodded and moved off. Peter's shoulders slumped further. Strange how he felt more need to appear strong before these two who were like fathers to him than before Jaerin and I. Lucy leaned against her brother, a faint tremble in her hands. My king looked at me, his fear and worry revealed in the dim light through the blue eyes faded to grey.

"Jaer—"

"We'll not leave you," I said, indicating Jaerin with a small wave. "Take your ease and rest as well as you can, brawind. Jaerin and I will guard your night."

Peter nodded gratefully and Lucy managed a wan smile. Jaerin and I escorted them to a sheltered spot and then my brother set up their tent while I arranged for their supper. Not long after, with our friends safely ensconced in their tent (not that I actually expected them to sleep, but at least Peter could help Lucy through the day's events and perhaps she could help him channel his anger into something constructive) Jaerin and I sat outside the door. Jaerin chewed thoughtfully on a strip of peppered jerky..

"You do know what that leather strap was," he said after a long moment of silence.

"Yes."

"A cat o' nine tails. That had been used. And burned to hide the evidence."

"Yes."

"And if they said it smelled of Edmund…"

"I know, Jaerin."

"He's in bad shape."

"Silver tarnishes, brother."

"And gold?"

I knew he referred to both Peter and Lucy. Theirs was a bright and fiery nature that nevertheless welcomed all. Silver was Edmund and Susan—cooler, more distant, but with a sharper elegance and more calculated presence. Together, silver and gold reigned at Cair Paravel.

"I can only hope this fire isn't so hot that they melt." I sighed.

"The flames can mold as well as melt," Jaerin said. "Have we not been tempered by fiery trials?"

"Aye. But steel is hardier than gold. Into what shape will they be molded?"

Jaerin rubbed his neck. "Yeah." We were silent for a few more minutes then Jaerin shook himself. "What am I saying? We sound like a pair of Marshwiggles moaning about the weather. Rien would have our heads if she heard us now."

The thought of a lecture from our feisty sister brought a bit of a smile to my face. Jaerin was right. We were being overly gloomy. Despair would do no one any good and could possibly do harm. We had a task to do—two tasks. First, to rescue Edmund. Second, to keep Peter—and Lucy—sane while doing it.

I wasn't sure which would be more difficult.

Father and Orieus arranged the watches of the camp so that Jaerin and I could stay with our sovereigns. Jaerin took the first watch and I the second. Just as I was waking him to trade for the third watch, I heard someone begin to moan and shift about inside the tent. Jaerin snapped alert and we both looked to the canvas door.

"Should we?" Jaerin said.

My reply was cut off by a strangled scream in what was definitely Peter's voice. Jaerin and I looked at each other and plunged in, regardless of propriety. Sure enough, Peter was trapped in the throes of some dark dream, his legs tangled in his cloak and his arms thrashing at an imaginary foe. Lucy, white faced and bleary eyed, had apparently only just wakened from her own nightmare.

Quick as an adder, Jaerin darted to Peter's side and pinned one flailing arm. I grabbed the other. Shaking him did not break the dream's grip nor did calling his name so Jaerin resorted to the most dangerous method of waking our older king—he slapped him hard across the face. (Most dangerous because the last time I had to do that to Peter, it had resulted in me being thrown across the room and almost being impaled by a dagger before he realized what he was doing.)

Thankfully, with two of us holding him down, Peter was not able to do more than strain against our combined strength for the brief moment it took him to come to complete awareness. His eyes focused on me, flicked to Jaerin, and settled on Lucy. The tenseness in his shoulders vanished.

"You can let go now," he said. Jaerin and I sat back. "We should move out. Now."

"Give us an hour," I said. "For breakfast and the sun."

Peter sighed and rubbed a tired hand across his eyes. "Fine. No more."

An hour later, with only the faintest hint of dawnlight edging the eastern horizon and visible only to our fliers, we set out. Peter led this time, heading directly west as surely as if he were being pulled.

And considering just who we were following, it wouldn't surprise me if that were so.

For another two days we hunted, following only the barest hints of the raiders' passage. Jaerin and I kept up our watches on Peter and Lucy but neither suffered any more nightmares. Neither got much sleep though either, as evidenced by the growing shadows under their eyes. When next we found a clear token of Edmund, I almost wished we hadn't.

Staked in the middle of a clearing, our enemies had left a spear. And tied to that spear was a rag of fabric edged with gold embroidery. Written across the red background in brown letters were the words "Catch us if you can." The fabric obviously had been torn from Edmund's tunic—only he and Peter wore that style of red and gold—but the reason for the thunderous fury on Orieus face escaped me at first. And then I realized what the raiders had used for ink.

Blood.

Edmund's blood.


	12. Silver Dire

Peter's rage was utterly silent. I expected him to roar with fury like Jaerin did, but the High King had already spoken his anger to the skies at the ambush site. The skillful wielding of words to express feelings was Susan's domain. Peter took one look at the gruesome message before stuffing the scrap of fabric in his pouch. No flicker of emotion showed in his stony visage.

For her part, Lucy gasped and clapped a hand over her suddenly white face. Then her jaw set and her eyes narrowed.

"They want a chase then?" she snapped. "So be it."

After that, it was Lucy who really took command of the rescue force. Left to himself, Peter would have ridden his mount until it dropped dead from exhaustion and then ran until he did the same. Lucy, however, managed to keep enough of her mind free of anger to direct our movements. She was a lioness stalking her prey, fierce, focused, deadly, and determined. Father and General Orieus reported to her instead of the High King after a day of receiving only grunts for answers from Peter.

As for Jaerin and I, we remained free from any normal scouting assignments. Instead, we assumed the roles we took on ourselves when we were still children—that of guard and brother to our kings and queens. We never left them alone. In keeping with Edmund's last order, I remained with Peter. We said nothing but he seemed a little less tense when I was near. Jaerin ghosted through the woods with Lucy matching her woods-grace with hard-learned stealth. He spoke little of their ever-grimmer task and the shadows in his eyes grew deeper the further along the trail we went.

Even after the dreadful marker, our quarry did not slacken their diligence in hiding their tracks. Twice we almost lost the trail. Might have lost it entirely if the barbarians had not left more evidence of their passage. They left scraps of Edmund's bloodstained clothing, locks of hair torn from his head. And trails of blood. So much blood…

Nearly a fortnight into our search, we were no nearer the raiders than we had been the day we found the message. Man and Beast alike were weary in body and spirit but no one was remotely willing to abandon the hunt. If there was an edge of desperation in our search, it was because we knew even the hardiest warrior could not endure such torture for much longer. What the raiders wanted with Edmund did not matter—all our minds were consumed with the task of bringing him home alive.

A goal that seemed more distant with each passing day.

The land through which we now traveled was fresh and green with the brightness of spring. Flowers of every hue of the rainbow danced beneath tall trees or in small clearings. Birds sang cheerful songs in praise of the beauty around us.

I hated it.

The new foliage seemed a plot to obscure vision and conceal secrets. Spring grasses were too long and too young—they rebounded too easily from trampling feet. Even the flowers seemed cruel, their beauty a mockery for the hateful tokens we found in their midst. A thin grey haze dimmed the sky's normally bright blue for most of our search, adding to the menacing air.

Today, the twelfth since leaving Protector's Green, the air seemed especially oppressive. Gnats and flies buzzed around our faces and would not leave us alone. Silence, heavy and dark weighed on my heart. Anvil shaped clouds built up in the skies and distant thunder rumbled through the thick air.

The others felt the oncoming storm as well and I watched as the searchers tightened their cordon around us, never quite getting out of sight of one another. Darkness came long before sunset and we were forced to make camp early. We needed the rest as much as we begrudged taking it. Peter and Lucy paced about the camp in stony silence—the soldiers bowed to them as they passed but made no attempt to speak to either of them. Jaerin and I watched their circuit from near their tent.

"I don't know," my brother said, "if I am more angry at these barbarians for what they're doing to Edmund or what what they're doing to Edmund is doing to Peter and Lucy."

Though his tone was casual, there was a tightness underlying it that betrayed Jaerin's anger. That and the fact that his Archenlandish accent was more pronounced than normal. Our years in Narnia had muted our rolling speech but in moments of high stress the lilt reasserted itself in Jaerin's voice. I had no reply to his comments and so remained silent.

The storm broke at what we guessed to be sundown. Rain poured down in torrents, lashing at us like tiny daggers. Trees bent and broke in the gale-like winds that ripped through them. Lightning shot through the sky like dueling dragons while thunder shook the earth with the footsteps of giants.

In the midst of this storm, while I was on watch, Peter staggered out of the tent. In the intermittent light, his face was pale and haggard and he did not seem to notice me as he struggled through the storm away from the camp.

I shook Jaerin awake and raced after my king. "Peter?" I shouted over the storm. "Peter, what are—"

Peter whirled on me, Rhindon in his hand though I had not seen him draw. "Let me be," he snarled. I fell back at the sight of the fear, pain, and anger in his expression. He turned and continued his trek through the ferocity of the elements. I followed.

About a furlong east of the main camp, we came to a small, rocky clearing. Peter stumbled out into the center, buffeted by the wind. Twice he fell and forced himself back to his feet. The third time, he did not try to stand again. I hesitated in the edge of the trees. Was he hurt? Then Peter flung back his head and screamed at the tormented skies in heartbroken fury that made the storm's rage seem small in comparison.

"_Why?_"

The anguish in that single word drove me to my knees and I bowed my head before the tempest. Why indeed?

"Oh, Aslan, Where are you when we need you most? When they need you?" The plea slid past my lips to be lost in the storm and I felt keenly my helplessness. We were alone in this battle.

I do not know how long I knelt there, lashed by wind and rain, held captive by despair. But the storm ended at last and morning came. I roused myself and made my way to where Peter was curled up in the center of the clearing. I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"Peter?"

My king shuddered and took a deep breath before sitting up. Then he looked at me. Really looked at me for the first time since the night before the ambush. Dark rage still burned in his eyes but now, for the moment, he controlled it once more instead of his wrath controlling him. He had broken once and would not again.

"Jaer," Peter said and accepted my hand to pull himself to his feet. "Come on. We've a brother to find."

I could not help but grin as hope sprung up anew in my heart. "Aye, sire. That we do."

Together, we strode back toward where the others were doubtless beginning to worry. At the edge of the clearing I paused and looked back, thinking I heard something. And though I can never be certain, to this day, I think I saw the outline of a Lion's paw beside where Peter had slept.

I did not tell anyone, even Jaerin, of what transpired that night. But it was enough to know that something had brought our High King back from the black pit of despair. Peter once more took charge of the hunt, speaking little but with greater control. Hope grew, pushing out the rank weeds of depression and we searched with greater vigor.

On the fourteenth day since we left Protector's Green, we found a token that nearly shattered Peter's new-found strength. And with good reason. Lucy and Jaerin had been absent scouting much of the day—nothing unusual—when I heard Jaerin's whistle, high and shrill, slicing through the air. "Help!" the note screamed before being cut off. Everyone but Peter and I froze at the anguished sound that stabbed at sensitive ears. The High King and I were fully a furlong ahead of the rest of the company when we came upon our siblings. Jaerin's face was stormy as he held Lucy tight. My queen was sobbing and pounding her fists against his chest.

"Lucy!" Peter cried, leaping from his mount before the horse stopped moving.

"Keep the others back, Jaer!" my brother shouted at the same time. "She's not hurt, Peter. Not in body."

At the sound of her brother's name, Lucy pulled away from Jaerin and flung herself at Peter, almost knocking him down. I had no time to ask what was going on as the first ranks of our army hurtled through the trees toward us.

"Back!" I shouted, wheeling Justice about. "Back in the kings' names!"

The racing Animals led by General Orieus skidded to a halt. Some few in the back crashed into the leaders. All looked warily about us or stared at the king and weeping queen.

"Jaerin! Sound the all clear!" I called as more soldiers charged in from different directions. My brother dropped to the ground and fumbled around as I turned back to the confused warriors. "A perimeter! Give me a perimeter around their majesties!"

I was proud of the speed at which the soldiers complied with my orders. The trio of notes signaling safety rang out from my brother's whistle as a wide ring formed around Peter and Lucy. They even had the graciousness to face outward and not watch their royals. General Orieus did not remain in the circle, stalking toward me. His heavy hooves made no sound in the long grass.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice quiet and laced with worry.

I shook my head. "I don't know. Jaerin?"

I looked over my shoulder expecting to see my brother by Peter and Lucy only to find him at Justice's head. His face was grim and a storm of fury raged behind his eyes.

"We found Edmund's signet ring," Jaerin said. If a tornado were given voice, it would sound like he did.

Orieus' frown deepened. "Surely that would not cause…this." It did not take much to see how badly he wanted to comfort the king and queen whom he loved as his own. But he could not know how to act without knowing the cause of Lucy's break down.

"Judge for yourself." Jaerin slowly opened his right hand and pulled back a fold of his handkerchief.

"Oh Aslan," I breathed. They had left Edmund's signet ring—but they also left his finger.


	13. Burning West a Golden Fire

_I have seen Peter angry before. I saw his fury when Alman dared to strike at Queen Lucy. I watched his descent into despair and rise into wrath that long-ago Christmas when I was named White Armor Knight and bandits dared to kidnap the queens. I knew his anguish every time any of his siblings were injured or insulted in any fashion._

_But this, this burning rage was something different entirely._

_Have you ever watched a storm come? You see the clouds building up in the distance and they are white and lovely to behold. But they draw closer, blocking out the sun, darkening the world. The white turns to grey and then to black as day is quenched before its time. But it is not raining yet. No, the air grows dense and heavy. It is difficult to breathe. You feel as if you are being pressed into the earth, as if tons of stone were sitting on your chest. The clear blue sky is gone, replaced by darkness. The fresh air is gone, replaced by stagnant cloud._

_And then the storm breaks. Rain lashes at your face like daggers. Lightning streaks across the sky and scorches the land like the dragons of old. Thunder crashes and tries to deafen you. Winds roar over the hills, tearing at your hair and clothes and wrenching branches from trees. You are caught in the midst of the tempest, trapped in the grasp of some force mightier than you._

_So it was with the king._

_Each time I had seen him furious, Edmund had been there. The ice to Peter's fire, he cooled and tempered Peter's anger even as he was stirred beyond words. But Edmund was not here. He was somewhere ahead, captured by ruthless men. And Peter grew wild._

_Peter's eyes, normally bright and blue, clear and sparkling like the waters of the Eastern Sea, grew dark. Blue faded to midnight and then to black. They were as hard as Blue River Steel, filled with untamed fury that was only restrained because he had no one against whom to lash out. To look into his eyes was to look into death._

_Always Peter stood straight and noble, radiating power and authority. Now the sense of power grew oppressive. To stand near him was to feel as though lightning were about to strike you. The hairs on your arms stood up, your scalp prickled. He was pulled tighter than a new bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He was ready to destroy._

_And then there was Lucy._

_A flame had been lit in her eyes the instant she knew Edmund had been captured. It burned there still. Brown eyes turned gold, a fierce fire that would one day consume her enemies. The woman was buried in the warrior. She moved through the trees with the grace of a Dryad, yet was a shadow of her usual laughing self. No joy filled her eyes and she took no delight in the country we travelled. The land we passed through was only a means to the end: her brother._

_Never before had I seen Lucy truly angry. For brief periods, her anger would flare, but it always vanished like darkness before the sun and she would accept with kindness any apology, forgiving easily and freely. Lucy was all that was bright and clear and good in Narnia, seemingly untouched by the battles that so often harassed our borders. Seemingly. Now I knew that her steel core was hardened by the flames of war as surely as her brothers'. Anyone who might have doubted her ability to lead an army before could not question the authority in her golden eyes._

_She was like a wildfire lapping at the edges of the firebreak, searching for a gap so that its hunger could be satiated. As a fire could give light and warmth so Lucy's joy lit Narnia and as a fire could burn and destroy so Lucy's anger threatened to consume her enemies._

_None would stand in her way._

_It was terrifying watching my young queen's descent into the same madness, the same wildness that consumed the High King. She was the only one who would possibly be able to cool Peter's fury. I do not think she would._

_Nor would I._


	14. How Many

Two days later, the aerial scouts reported a castle a day's ride ahead, due west. The next afternoon, we emerged from a fringe of woodland to see a great stone castle about half a league away across a stump-studded, grassy plain. Peter and Lucy (for once mounted on Philip) stared in silence for a long moment at the grim fortress. Then Peter turned and addressed the troops with his longest speech in days.

"Fauns and Satyrs to the woods. Build ladders for all who can climb. Bears and Buffalo—fashion a battering ram. Cats and Dogs, fan out, surround the castle and see if there are any hidden entrances. Orieus, Jaer, Jaerin, Peridan, Kanell, and Wolves and Deer, with us."

So Peter had been planning while he was silent. It was good. For us. Not for the inhabitants of the fortress.

With the rampant Lion flying boldly from a hastily constructed spear, we galloped toward the castle. That the fortress was entirely for warlike purposes was evident by the lack of fields or buildings on our approach. In fact, as best I could tell, there was no cover of any type within half a league of the castle on any side. We passed fresh stumps indicating the newness of the clearing—a few of them could not have been more than a day old. As we drew near the walls, I could see evidence of hasty construction in ill-made joints. These raiders had not been here long.

There were no gates on the east side where we approached so we rode around until we found them on the west. Men in leather armor and strange silver masks carrying spears and crossbows lined the walls for the whole of our circuit. No moat or portcullis guarded the gate though it was flanked by two menacing towers. Atop the keystone, a man with a bronze mask waited.

"Jaerin," Peter said—and the look on his face was feral—"Would you be our herald? Inform them of their fate if our brother is in their hands."

"With pleasure."

Jaerin and I rode forward, I half a length behind with the banner. We did not bother with green branches or a white flag as we came to deliver an ultimatum for war, not discuss terms of peace. Jaerin carried his bow ready in his hand. Just within speaking range, we halted.

"Who here speaks with authority on behalf of the garrison?" my brother called.

The bronze-masked man shifted slightly and raised one hand. "I am Sopes, second in command. Who are you that speaks with such insolence to the men of Telmar?"

So they were from Telmar. I would remember that. The man's accent was one I had not heard on any of our travels. His r's rolled around themselves and there was a faint hint of an almost-lisp on his s's.

"Have you within your fortress King Edmund of Narnia, the Just, Lord of Cair Paravel, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table?" The titles fell from Jaerin's tongue with the ease of long practice and close acquaintance.

"If you mean the scrawny man-child we picked up a few weeks back, then yes, we have him," Sopes mocked.

The grin that spread across my brother's face was not one of mirth. It was a gleeful recognition of coming death and carnage. Of wild abandon to the deadly dance of the sword. Mixed in was the barest hint of relief that our long hunt was not in vain and Edmund was indeed alive. From a distance though, all our enemy would see was a benign smile.

"Then you shall be given this one chance to save lives," Jaerin declared. "Yield up our king and all who marched against Narnia or raised their hand against her people. We will allow any who are not guilty of violence against our land to return to their homes. This castle we will give to the flames. Refuse and all within will die."

Sopes threw back his head and laughed. His men imitated him and the sound of their scoffing spread across the walls. It was a strange sensation, this echoing laughter of faceless figures.

"You talk big for so small a number! I say again, who are you that speaks with such insolence?"

"Who am I?" My brother laughed in his turn. "Very well, it is only fair that you know who it is that brings your doom. I am Jaerin Peridanson of Narnia, Lord of Glasswater, Captain of the Narspis. With me stands Sir Jaer Farsight, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Lord of Evenstone, Captain of swordsmen, Banner-bearer of the four sovereigns. We are known among the mountains and across the desert as the Sons of Thunder.

"We speak on behalf of High King Peter, the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion and her Majesty, Queen Lucy the Valiant, Empress of the Lone Islands, Lady of the Noble Order of the Vial. With them stands General Peridan Cwengarde, Knight of the Noble Order of the Vial, Lord of Evenstone, descended in right line from Lord Helvein Panthersbane of ancient times and General Orieus Heydensrun..."

The litany of names, titles, and accomplishments rolled on long enough to make the soldiers on the wall shift uneasily. I am certain my brother could have listed everyone in our company if he had wanted to. But he did not. Concluding his recitation with the lieutenants present, Jaerin took a deep breath then raised one hand slowly to point at the commander.

"Know this, foul murderer of Trees and despoiler of land," he said. His lordly tone was replaced by one much darker. "I am Jaerin Peridanson. I am your death."

In the silence that followed Jaerin's proclamation, you could have heard a hummingbird's whisper. Then I saw movement along the edge of the line of men. I saw treachery.

"Crossbow, Jaerin!"

Before the man on the end had a chance to aim his crossbow, Jaerin sent an arrow speeding through the air. Even at that distance, the shaft penetrated the soldier's armor and toppled him screaming from the battlements. My brother had another arrow nocked and pointed at the commander in the space of a breath.

"Do you wish to test me again?" he asked, his voice deceptively casual. The only evidence of his anger was the burr which tinged his words. "I would not if I were you."

Though I could not see his face, Sopes betrayed his newfound uncertainty by the quick glances he cast to his right and left. His men shifted uneasily. Jaerin pulled the string just a little tighter.

"My fingers grow tired, Sopes. Will you surrender?"

He would not. Fool man. I had no pity for him. Only a very little for any of his men who had not joined in the desecration of Narnia. But even they had made their association clear and would be dealt with as they deserved.

Peter received the news with savage satisfaction. Lucy said nothing but the burning anger in her eyes might have changed the mind of the commander. Might.

We would take this fortress with ease, of this I was certain. Peter and Edmund together were the most formidable fighting force this age had known. Peter trying to save his brother was the deadliest warrior since the days of King Gerald II. And when you added Lucy, the valiant Lioness to the equation…

My only fear was that they would kill Edmund out of spite before we could rescue him. But he was stubborn, that young king of mine. He would know we were here for him and cling to life with all that was in him. We would just have to be swifter than the Telmarines when we took the castle. I did not think that would be a problem.

We pitched our tent well out of arrow shot of the gates but in clear view. Various members of our army came and went, bringing reports of the progress made. Peter accepted each report with grim nods and curt answers, rarely taking his eyes away from the fortress. Lucy listened in silence and stared at the walls as if the very force of her gaze could crumble the stone. When night fell, they sat together with their backs to the small fire and their faces to their brother's prison. Even when they finally fell asleep, they did not look away.

At dawn, we began our assault. Good Narnian longbows shot farther and faster than the crossbows of the garrison. Jaerin led the archers, picking off those who appeared to command with ready ease. It did not take long before no one dared to show his head above the walls.

The ladders fashioned by our good Fauns and Satyrs and presented to the king and queen at noon were not designed for human feet. Rather, the broad steps widely placed allowed for the Great Cats to race up to the walls. Carmine, the Buffalo, and the Bears cut down and hauled to our campsite three stout trees and worked to bind them together to form our battering ram.

That second night, instead of a single fire burning in front of the gates, we built bonfires all around the fortress and scattered across the barren leagues surrounding it. The two Panthers with our company crept up to the gates twice with a load of wood. The second time, Lucy went with them, lighting the pile on fire and leaping onto a Pather's back for a swift escape. Peter was not happy about her involvement but let her go anyway. I'm not sure even an order from him would have stopped the queen from joining them.

The chaos among the soldiers created by their suddenly burning gates was delightful to hear. Unfortunately, it was also annoyingly short. Whatever else one might say of these Telmarines, they were well commanded and well trained. Under any other circumstance, we might have had some difficulty with taking the stronghold. But the rage that filled the Narnians would not be dissuaded.

Jaerin and the archers resumed their harrying of the wall guards with the morning light. The battering ram was completed by noon. Armed with ladders and ram, we marched for the gates.

It was time for battle.


	15. Does the Gold One

In our haste and anger we were overconfident. Our attack was ill-planned and we were careless—a frontal assault on the gates with no cover. The troops were met with boiling oil and pitch, flaming arrows, and massive stones. The screams of the Great Cats and the roar of the Bears as their fur caught fire rent the air. Not one of our ladders managed to stay atop the walls long enough for anyone to charge up it. Two satyrs were crushed by boulders as they tried to help the burning Beasts away from the walls.

Face contorted in a snarl, Peter signaled for a retreat. We backed away slowly and in order, Peter, Lucy, Jaerin, Father, Orieus, and I last of all. A laugh came from the battlements and we turned to see the bronze-masked commander atop the gate again.

"You are not so proud now, eh, little lordling?" He scoffed. "You spoke too soo—" The commander toppled backward, an arrow through his eye.

"No," Jaerin said, as he lowered his bow, the string still vibrating from his shot. His voice was as cold and biting as a midwinter gale. "_You_ spoke too soon."

No one said anything else as we retreated out of arrowshot.

"We wait until sunset. Then we attack again," Peter said.

"We can't see in the dark, King Peter," Father gently reminded him. "We may not be able to move quickly enough."

"At eventide, the light will be full in their faces," Peter replied. "They will not be able to fire with any accuracy. I will wait no longer."

Father bowed. "Acknowledged. We should coordinate the attack from several fronts. They were better prepared than we expected. With your permission, I will summon all the captains."

There were seven captains, not counting Jaerin and I, and two generals with us. Gloridan the Great Eagle, Kanell and Talene Centaurs both, Herman the Satyr, Charet the Cheetah, Rickat the Faun, and Zorba the Mastiff, captains all, along with Father and Orieus, generals, gathered in a semi-circle behind the tent, hidden from easy view by anyone daring enough to stand on the castle walls. Peter stood before them with Lucy just behind his left shoulder. Edmund's place—at Peter's right—was glaringly empty. Flisk and Philip hovered just outside the circle.

We spent the next hour planning an assault that would better utilize the speed and ferocity of our troops and hopefully keep the guards spread thin enough that we could burst through the gates. Once we managed that, there would be no stopping us. We had almost completed our plans (Jaerin refused separation from the king and queen, adamantly enough for both of us) when Keefang Ravenwolf came racing across the fields and skidded to a halt just outside our council ring.

"What is it cousin?" Father asked.

"Good, good news," the Wolf panted. His tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth but he was grinning as only a Wolf could. "Their majesties will like to hear this."

"Tell on cousin," Peter said, rising from his seat.

"A secret passage, King Peter. Beth just found it. Kevin and Wills are searching it. We believe it leads under the walls and into the fortress."

"What!" The exclamation chorused from most of the captains.

"Lead us there, good Wolf!" Peter said. There was more enthusiasm in his voice than I had heard since our dreadful search began.

"One moment, your majesty." Orieus held up a hand. "If we all go now, it will alert the garrison to our knowledge of the passage. Let me go search it out first while you disband the council as if nothing were amiss. Come after me in the woods in a quarter hour—but enter at a different point and signal by Jaerin's whistle."

"Let it be so," Peter sat back down and the general galloped off at Keefang's heels. "Captains, we reconvene in half an hour within the trees."

It _was_ a hidden passage and it _did_ lead to the castle. Beth Ravenwolf judged that it reached into the courtyard but not the central keep. It did not matter. We hastily rearranged our plans for the night. Father took Peter's armor and Flisk while a Faun consented to wear Lucy's extra dress (poor fellow would likely cut his hair as soon as he could) so we could keep the illusion that the royals were involved in the attack on the gate.

The remaining hours of the afternoon crept by. Jaerin alternated between pacing and climbing trees. Lucy and Peter watched the castle from the edge of the treeline, coiled tighter than a clock spring, tension visible in every muscle. I took the time to polish Fahdane and add an extra sharpness to its edge.

Finally, the time came. Bursting from the cover of the trees, the Eagles and Gryphons swept across the skies, dropping their loads of burning branches or stones into the castle. Orieus led the assault from the left, Kanell from the right, while Father, masquerading as Peter, led the attack on the gate. I could not make out individual shapes but could see the frenzied action on the walls and ground alike. Something exploded inside the castle and Peter gave a grim smile.

"Time to go," he said.

We advanced cautiously through the black tunnel, led by the unerring noses of our Wolf scouts. As we neared the walls, the thudding on the roof told us of the fury of the attack. There was silence overhead for a moment then the noises returned and I knew we had just breached the walls. When we reached the end, Peter reached out to climb the ladder we could feel carved into the stone wall. I stopped him.

"Let us go first, majesty," I said. "In case they are guarding it."

Peter huffed but withdrew and I climbed silently up the ladder. The trap door above refused to budge however. A moment's fumbling and my hand found a lever. I pulled it. The wood swung back in silence. I stuck my sword up first and when I heard no challenge, ventured to peer over the edge. Chaos reigned in the courtyard. Men rushed back and forth in frenzied attempts to put out the raging fires. Metal clashed on metal and the sound mixed with the yowling of Great Cats as they fought along the battlements. Already the sun had sunk so that the courtyard was a mass of shadows and flickering flames. I hauled myself out of the tunnel and readied myself for battle.

Jaerin came up next followed by the Wolves and two Panthers. An unmasked soldier noticed us then. He gaped for a moment before his throat was torn out. But someone else saw our small party and shouted a warning. Soldiers dropped water buckets and drew swords—or tried to—as we attacked. More Narnians emerged from the tunnel, leaping into battle with claws bared or swords raised.

Then Peter appeared. Clad in my father's blackened armor he was the heart of the storm. Rhindon was lightning in his fist; his footsteps were thunder. His night-black eyes held all the fury of a hurricane. Outlined against the inferno, he looked more like a god of war than a mere mortal.

The courtyard stilled.

Lucy stepped up beside him, her skirts whipping around her ankles in the wind that seemed to swirl around her brother. Her golden armor was made of fires that had their birth in her blazing eyes. The sword in her hand was crafted from living flame. Streams of burning amber poured out of her helmet and spread about her shoulders.

_Sweet Lion, were these my friends of old?_

Then the Wolves howled and the Dogs echoed them, the eerie cry rising up from every direction. The Telmarines stirred.

And Golden Fire was unleashed.


	16. Burn

…_**Burn?**_

Peter took point, flanked by Lucy and I while Jaerin brought up the rear. It was exactly the same formation as we typically fell into—only Lucy stood in Edmund's place. Under normal circumstances, our formation would have been weakened by the substitution.

These were not normal circumstances.

From the moment we attacked, the distinction between weapon and warrior ended. I was Fahdane and Fadane, me. Peter was Rhindon and Jaerin, Anadllew. Shafelm was missing but Tydïn stood in its place. Four swords, four warriors. A circle of death.

Lucy was all gold and crimson and amber; a swirl of skirts and steel among the men and Beasts. Speed and dexterity were her allies and any who thought to disregard her for her small size paid for their idiocy with their life. Knives sped from her fingers with unerring accuracy as she sliced her way across the courtyard.

The yowling of the Great Cats, baying of the Dogs, eerie howling of the Wolves, screeches of the Gryphons and Eagles, and the shouts of men wove themselves together in a terrible symphony in my head. Some notes were cut off in the middle, dying in silence before their theme could come to fruition; others went screaming to their deaths as another melody overwhelmed their own. The tympani of steel on steel and stone and the twang of bow strings melded together to form the constant harmony. And above it all rang Jaerin's mad laughter.

No one who knew him would recognize the careless fop who flirted and danced his way through the courts of Brenn, Terebinthia, the Lone Islands and Calormene in the insane warrior who moved with lightning steps more certain than a wildcat's. Darting, sliding, ducking, spinning, always returning to his position just behind Lucy's left, my brother abandoned himself to the siren call of battle. Jaerin reveled in the chaos we caused. Without the anchor he had in me—and that I had in him—I would have lost my brother to bloodlust and rage.

Peter had no such anchor.

Or rather, he did, but it was locked away in a tower where it could not hold him. In stealing Edmund, the raiders had stolen the one warrior who remembered justice in the midst of fury.

An exceptional swordsman at any time, Peter was devastation itself. Death and destruction were in his very gaze and more than one soldier faltered and fled before Rhindon cut him down. No blade could touch him, no arrow pierce his guard. No flame could deter him, no Beast outpace him. Neither stone nor wood could hinder his approach. The doors of the keep yielded to his fury like parchment to the fire. The phalanx of soldiers gathered behind the doors to bar our way were sliced to pieces in a moment as Peter's wrath swept over them.

Moving almost faster than the eye could follow, my king had decimated their ranks before they could comprehend their peril. Mere seconds behind, Lucy carved herself a path through the guards as my brother and I joined the attack. Before our combined blades, the soldiers broke and ran.

We cut them down as they fled.

Up through the castle keep over blood-slick stone, over the bodies of the dead and dying, we fought. Always Peter in the lead with the queen flinging daggers over his shoulders—daggers she took from the corpses as we passed. Always Jaerin and I guarding the rear and dispatching the rare few whom the High King chose to let pass him. Four times doors opened and soldiers endeavored to flank us. Four times they were thwarted. Twice we passed landings where the Telmarines attempted to make a stand. Twice we carved a path through flesh and bone and metal

The third landing, though… The third landing was different.

There our upward trek ended in a wide, low roofed hall. There were only three doors, one on either side with the third at the far end. This third door was barred with iron and guarded by fifteen men. Foremost of our challengers was a man in a gilded mask, his eyes dark pools of emptiness and his mouth a gaping hole. Torches flickered along the wide hall casting shadows that danced like evil goblins. For the first time since we left the hidden passage we paused.

In the eerie stillness, I was aware of the way my lungs were burning and my heart pounding in my chest. My hands were stiff around Fahdane's hilt. Jaerin was motionless but for the flicking of his eyes from the Telmarines to Peter. Lucy trembled from head to toe but whether from fury or exhaustion I could not tell. Peter now… Peter's wrath had burned hot and fast. Now he was still. Still, but oh so angry. His voice was hard as stone and as black as the deeps of Archen Caverns when he spoke.

"You are the leader?"

"Yes." The gold-masked man's voice echoed in his helmet.

"You stole my brother?"

"I kept him."

"Then you die."

In the space of a heartbeat, Peter went from motionless to _being_ motion. Roaring his brother's name, he flung himself on the leader. Steel met steel and there began a duel that would have been worthy of song had anyone else been there to see it. For the Telmarine leader was the most skilled swordsman I had seen in ages and despite Peter's rage, he matched my elder king blow for blow. But Lucy and Jaerin and I had not the luxury of watching for long. Peter dealt with the leader—we had yet his followers to handle.

The hall was scarcely wide enough for three to swing a sword so Lucy fell back, yielding the floor to Jaerin and I. But she did not stand idle. The first man to dodge past the flashing swords that were Peter and the Telmarine leader fell dead at my feet, a dagger through his throat. The second met a similar fate and then our enemies were upon us.

My opponent was a man who towered over even Jaerin—and my brother is tall even by Archenlandish standards. He had the strength too to match. My arms trembled beneath the force of his blow. Trembled, but did not falter. Would not falter. I had battled Centaurs and Giants, Minotaurs and Ogres, Bears and River Gods. The power of a mere man was nothing to them. I used my enemy's strength to my advantage, deflecting his strokes so that he spent his energy to no avail. His face was hidden behind the silver mask but I could hear his frustration mounting, see it in the wildness of his strokes. He raised his sword high, guarding his chest with his shield, then, roaring his anger, he swung down. I crouched low, Fahdane ready to receive and redirect the blow into my enemy's own feet.

But the blow that came was pitifully weak and his roar ended in a harsh gurgle. The sword dropped to the ground followed immediately by the decapitated body. My brother stood in his place, a mad grin on his flame-lit face.

"Couldn't resist," he said, then spun to impale a charging warrior on the end of Anadllew.

Twice more, my brother cut down my opponent before I could. Twice I did the same for him. Three soldiers Lucy felled—two with knives, one with sword. Two more I fought and defeated even as my brother did the same. The last enemy was unworthy of the name of soldier. Cringing in the corner, he begged for his life as Peter stalked toward him. The High King wasted no words but slew him as he whimpered.

Sparing the dead not a glance, I and Jaerin grabbed the iron bar blocking the end door and wrenched it from its fastenings. No sooner had we removed it than Peter was there, crashing through the stout oak like it were parchment. The door was torn from its hinges and smashed to the ground with an echoing _boom_. Peter paused in the doorway.

And then I saw Edmund.

He looked little more than a bloodied heap of clothing flung against the wall but somehow, he was conscious. Dark eyes, bloodshot, full of pain and scarcely able to focus, blinked open and turned toward Peter.

Then I saw the boy.

A _Telmarine_ boy.

With a wordless cry, Peter leaped into the room, Rhindon raised high, ready to slice through the unprotected skull of the boy.

"Peter, no."

The breathless, pain-filled whisper cut through the wild blood-rage and froze Peter in his steps. Rhindon clattered to the ground.

"Edmund?" Peter dropped beside his brother.

Eyes flickering shut, Edmund shook his head the barest fraction. "Let 'im live," he slurred. "Helped me." A ragged sigh slid from his lungs and Edmund lay still.

Too still.

"Peter, _move_!"

Lucy dove past me and crashed into her eldest brother, knocking him aside. Fingers trembling, she fumbled for the cordial beneath her armor. She was barely able to pull the stopper out but held steady enough to let two crimson drops—no more—fall from the vial's mouth before closing it again.

We waited.

And Edmund breathed.


	17. One, Two, Three, Four

_**One, Two, Three, Four…**_

We breathed with Edmund, drawing in air in a sharp gasp and letting it out again in a long sigh. Peter brushed a lock of blood-crusted hair away from his brother's too-pale forehead as Lucy took Edmund's hand in her own. Jaerin was at my side and I leaned toward him so that our shoulders touched.

The boy took that inopportune moment to cough.

Peter stiffened. Gathering Rhindon in his fist, the High King rose majestically to his feet. Towering over the boy, he glared down at him.

"My brother has spared your life," he said. "For that reason alone, I will let you live. But if you come within my sword's reach again this night, I cannot vouch for my actions."

Peter turned away from the boy. For the first time since our battle began, I actually saw his face. I did not recognize him.

Some part of me had thought that finding Edmund would temper my king's wrath. It had not. If anything, it had stoked it.

Though Peter's eyes were blue again, they were the burning blue that was the heart of the flame. There was no compassion or mercy in their dangerous depths. The man I knew was gone, replaced by a vengeful, bloodthirsty Wildman who would not rest until his hunger for death had been satiated.

"Take care of him," Peter snarled, looking at Jaerin and I. Then he brushed past us and stalked toward the stairs like a wild beast.

Jaerin looked at me. "You staying here?"

I shrugged. "Best way to take care of Edmund right now is to take care of Peter. He'd never forgive us if something happened to him."

"So I think."

It was a gruesome path we trod, down the wake of our wrathful ascent, but I hardly noticed. We passed the two Panthers and sent them up to guard the door in case we had missed anyone on our way up. Peter's unnatural calm lasted until he set foot again in the courtyard where the battle still raged. Then, with what I can only describe as a bone-chilling howl, he attacked.

I had thought his battle-fury was as hot as possible before we found Edmund. I was wrong. Rhindon cut through men as easily as air. Peter stormed through burning wreckage, not even noticing when hungry flames licked at his clothing and singed his hair. Twice I had to leave off fighting to grab a bucket of water and toss it on my unheeding king. Even the abrupt drenching did not affect him.

When all the Telmarines in the courtyard were either dead or dying. Peter returned to the castle. Coldly, methodically, he marched through every room, killing every man he found. At Edmund's room, he stopped, stared at the doorway, then, without entering, turned back again. He saw Jaerin and I and Rhindon leaped upward to strike before he recognized us. He frowned.

"I told you to take care of Edmund," he snapped.

"We are," Jaerin replied. "By taking care of you."

Snarling his disapproval, Peter once more shoved past us and to the courtyard. This time I was aware of the disfigured bodies beneath our feet. Aware but heedless of them. My own anger still burned hot and I did not care that we dishonored the dead so. Later, I would care. For now, I followed Peter as I had since the day we met.

In the courtyard, we found the fires dying, burning low and red. The gate stood open; parts of the battlements were broken from the fury of the fight. Father and Orieus waited for us in front of the ranks of our warriors. The sky above was dark, but no longer black. Somehow, during our fighting, the night had passed and day was coming. For a moment, I saw Peter's shoulders relax the barest fraction then, with the suddenness of a mid-summer storm, his anger swept back in.

"What is that?" he growled, pointing with Rhindon at a group of four men clumped together behind a circle of guards.

Father glanced to the side as Orieus answered. "Prisoners. They surrendered near the beginning of the battle."

"Surrendered? You _accepted_ their _surrender_?" Peter's voice rose in volume.

"Yes, my liege." Orieus bowed slightly.

Eyes black and jaw clenched , Peter shoved past the generals and guards and stood face-to-face with one of the prisoners. "You think you can take _my brother_ captive, torture him for three weeks, and then you'll just _surrender_ and be safe?"

The soldier trembled but managed a small nod. These were Narnians. He'd surrendered. Everyone knew that the justice of Narnia meant that a soldier who surrendered willingly would be granted a trial regardless of the crime.

Poor man. He really had no idea what they'd done when they captured Edmund.

Peter killed the man where he stood and before anyone could stop him, the other three fell beneath Rhindon's swift strokes. Father looked at him in horror and there was something like disappointment in Orieus' eyes. For my part, though startled, I was not altogether taken unawares.

There was a very good reason Peter was not called "The Just."

Peter wiped his sword clean on the tunic of one of the dead Telmarines. "Gather all the bodies in a pile outside the gates. We will burn this place and leave them as a testament to what happens when one attacks the Throne of Narnia." Sheathing Rhindon, he turned once more for the castle.

The silence that filled the courtyard was as heavy as an Elephant's tread. A hundred pairs of shocked eyes followed the High King as he strode to the keep. His dark armor melded with the shadows but his pale hair caught the light from the fires and made it seem as though he were crowned with golden flames. I looked back at the motionless soldiers.

"You heard the High King," I said. "Move!"

Though only Captains and thus outranked or equaled in rank by many here, my brother and I were also Kings' Keepers—not bodyguards precisely but shadows and counselors, always there when needed—and in such a situation, that counted for more than military rank. General Orieus stirred and summoned soldiers with a wave of his hand. A moment slower, my father followed suit and the clean-up began.

For my part, I too made my way back to the keep. Once more, Jaerin and I trod the ghastly path through the castle and to the top level. We did not enter the room where Edmund was but took the place of the Panthers guarding the door. A quick glance inside showed Lucy with Edmund's head pillowed on her lap while Peter knelt near them. The Telmarine boy was huddled in the corner, knees drawn up to his chest and head bowed. I frowned and stepped forward, ready to drag him into another room. Whatever happened in that room should not be seen by any foreign eyes. Least of all by _him_—one of the people who caused this sorrow.

Jaerin stayed me with a hand on my shoulder. "Let him be," he murmured. "Let him see what binds Narnia together." In the flickering light of the torches, I could see my brother's eyes. They were clear green again, free of the madness that had filled them for all the night. I yielded.

So we waited outside the door while Lucy murmured comforting words to her brothers and Peter wept over Edmund's unconscious form. The soldiers came and cleared away the bodies and poured water down the stairs to wash the blood from the stones. Light grew in the room behind us even as the torches guttered and died. An hour and more must have passed before Peter gathered Edmund up in his arms and stood. With a glare that could melt steel, he ordered the boy to follow him and marched past us, eyes bloodshot from weeping but set in a face of granite. Lucy swept after him, her face equally tearstained. The Telmarine boy followed, trembling and Jaerin and I fell in behind them.

Down to the courtyard we marched with unfaltering steps. Through what had been a den of death and was now merely echoing stone, Peter carried his precious burden. The bright light of the new day illuminated a grisly scene in the courtyard. Though some effort had been made to clean the battlefield (for Lucy's sake, not ours, I am certain) no amount of scrubbing would render those stones white again. Two great mounds of corpses stood to the left of the gate while to the right, more honorably treated and with cloaks covering their faces, lay three lines of Narnian dead. The red dawn gave the illusion that the courtyard was covered in blood. Charred beams from fallen outbuildings stuck up at sharp angles like the bones of a giant. Ash floated on the breeze or swirled in the corners like ghosts.

The Telmarine boy gasped and froze at the sight of the carnage. And it was with that sound that I realized what we had done. An entire castle—some five or six hundred men by the look of it—slaughtered in revenge. Not justice. Revenge. A proverb attributed to the first king of Narnia and speaking of Aslan sprang to mind. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay." In our rage, had we usurped Aslan's role?

I had not long to consider our actions—_my_ actions—for Peter did not stop walking. Jaerin pushed the boy forward and we marched through the wreckage until we stood at the ruined gates. There, Peter paused and looked with grim satisfaction at the piled bodies outside the walls. He then pressed a light kiss to Edmund's pale forehead and murmured something that I could not hear. I heard his next words clearly though.

Turning around, Peter looked me directly in the eyes.

"Keep my brother safe."

And he handed Edmund to me.


End file.
